I’ve been married to Tom for three years. Before our marriage, I had my two dogs, Max and Bella, who are like my children. Tom always seemed to understand this.

Before a two-week work trip, Tom reassured me, “I’ll take care of Max and Bella. You go and do your best at work.” I felt relieved. But once I settled in at my hotel, my mom texted, “Is everything okay with Max and Bella?” She sent a picture of them tied up outside, looking sad.

I called Tom, trying to stay calm. “Why are Max and Bella tied up outside?”

“I thought they needed some fresh air,” he said. “I’ll bring them back inside soon.”

The next few days were filled with worry. Despite Tom’s assurances, I couldn’t shake off my unease. My mom visited again and found the house messy. I asked her to take the dogs to her place. “I can’t trust Tom right now,” I said.

When I returned home early, Tom was surprised. “Where are Max and Bella?” I demanded.

“They’re outside,” he replied. I revealed my mom had them. Tom accused me of overreacting. “Maybe there isn’t space for you in my life,” I retorted.

I left for my mom’s house, feeling a sense of relief. The next day, I called a lawyer. “I’m filing for divorce, Tom,” I said firmly. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Tom moved out by the end of the week. Alone but with Max and Bella, I knew I had made the right choice. My dogs are my family, and anyone who can’t accept that doesn’t belong in my life.

Was my decision justified? After seeing how Tom treated my dogs, I believe it was. They are my family, and I need someone who respects that.