The first time Scott asked me to leave, I thought I had misheard him.

“Honey, I think it would be better if you went to your parents’ on weekends.”

I blinked at him, my fingers still wrapped around my coffee mug. “What?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Patricia doesn’t want Ben around you. She says it’ll confuse him. If she finds out you spend time with him, she’ll make things difficult. I just want peace.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. Scott and I had been married for a little over a year. I knew co-parenting with his ex-wife wasn’t easy, but this? This felt like a slap in the face.

“So, let me get this straight,” I said slowly. “Your ex doesn’t want me around your son, so your solution is to make me leave my own house every weekend?”

Scott exhaled. “It’s just until things settle down. I don’t want to risk losing my time with Ben.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to nod. I didn’t want to be the reason he saw his son less. So I packed a bag and drove to my parents’ house.

My mom frowned when I arrived. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “Scott just wants to keep things smooth with Patricia.”

Her frown deepened, but she didn’t press.

At first, I told myself it was temporary. But weeks turned into months. Every Friday evening, I packed my things and left like some unwanted guest. I came back Sunday night, like a weekend tenant in my own home. I told myself I was being understanding, that I was making a sacrifice for my husband.

But then, one Saturday, I decided I had had enough.

That morning, I packed my bag as usual. But instead of leaving, I parked my car down the street and waited. The whole thing felt ridiculous—hiding in my own neighborhood like I was sneaking into a crime scene. But a feeling I couldn’t shake had taken root in my stomach.

At noon, I made my way back to the house. My key slid into the lock effortlessly, and I stepped inside, quiet as a shadow.

Laughter floated from the living room. I recognized Ben’s giggles, light and carefree. But the second voice—soft, familiar, and too close—made my stomach drop.

Patricia.

I edged forward, peering around the corner.

There they were. My husband, his ex-wife, and their son, sitting together like a picture-perfect family. Scott leaned in close to Patricia, something intimate in his posture. She was laughing, touching his arm like they had never separated.

I felt like the air had been sucked from my lungs.

“What the hell is going on?” The words burst from my mouth before I could stop them.

Three heads snapped toward me.

Scott’s face drained of color. “Jenna, what are you doing here?”

“What am I—?” I choked on a bitter laugh. “This is my house, Scott. Maybe a better question is: what is she doing here?”

Patricia sat back, crossing her legs as if she were perfectly at ease in my living room. “Scott didn’t tell you?” she said smoothly. “We’ve been co-parenting properly.”

I turned to Scott, my hands trembling. “You’ve been lying to me. Every weekend, I left my own home to give you time with your son, but you weren’t just playing dad. You were—what? Rebuilding your little happy family?”

“It’s not like that,” Scott said quickly. “I was just trying to keep the peace. Ben is happiest when we all get along.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “So I was just an obstacle to your perfect family reunion?”

Patricia smirked. “You were the problem, yes.”

I turned to her, anger rising like a fire in my chest. “Excuse me?”

Scott stepped forward, his hands raised as if to calm me. “Jenna, let’s not do this—”

“No, let’s absolutely do this,” I snapped. “For months, I left my own home like some kind of intruder. I sacrificed my comfort, my dignity, everything, so you could see your son. And this whole time, you were playing house with your ex-wife?”

“Ben needs stability,” Patricia cut in. “Not some new woman confusing him.”

I turned to Scott, my heart pounding. “Is that how you see me? As ‘some new woman’?”

His silence told me everything I needed to know.

I nodded slowly. “Okay.” My voice was eerily calm. “You two want to play family? Be my guest.”

I grabbed my bag—the same one I packed every damn weekend—and walked toward the door. Scott rushed after me.

“Jenna, wait,” he pleaded. “Don’t do this. You’re overreacting.”

I laughed—an empty, hollow sound. “Oh, I’m not the one doing anything. I was the idiot leaving my own home every weekend so you could make your ex-wife comfortable. Meanwhile, you had her sitting on my couch, in my house, treating me like a temporary inconvenience.”

Scott sighed, but Patricia? She just smiled, like she had already won.

And maybe she had.

But if she thought I was going to be another one of their problems to manage, she was dead wrong.

I turned on my heel and walked upstairs.

I didn’t leave the house with a weekend bag that night.

I left with my suitcases.

One Year Later

I won’t lie—divorcing Scott wasn’t easy. He tried to backtrack, told me he had only done it for Ben, that he didn’t want to lose me. But by the time he realized he had pushed me too far, I was already gone.

And you know what? I didn’t regret it.

Now, a year later, I was standing in my own apartment, sipping coffee on a Saturday morning without being told where I needed to be. My weekends were mine again. My life was mine again.

Scott and Patricia? They could have each other.

I hoped, for Ben’s sake, that it all worked out. But as for me?

I was done being the weekend ghost.

If you enjoyed this story, don’t forget to like and share! Would you have left in Jenna’s place, or tried to fight for the marriage? Let me know in the comments!