After a 13-hour flight, I was eager to see my husband, David, waiting at the airport. Instead, he texted that he couldn’t make it — Jenny, his friend’s wife, had needed a ride from the gym. It wasn’t the first time he’d put her above me, but this felt like a slap in the face. I called our family friend Mark, who picked me up without hesitation.

By the time we reached home, I had a plan. That evening, I set a romantic dinner with candles and David’s favorite dishes. When David walked in, his smile faltered at the sight of Mark at the table. “Dinner,” I said coolly. “To thank the man who was there for me when you weren’t.”

David squirmed through the meal as I praised Mark’s reliability, clearly getting the message. Later, I told him firmly, “I’m your wife, David. I need to come first — not Jenny, not anyone else.” His guilt was obvious, and he promised to change. For the first time in months, I believed him.

Weeks later, when Jenny went into labor and John called in a panic, David looked at me before acting. “I promised you I’d put us first,” he said, and called Mark instead. That night, as we held hands waiting for updates, I realized the lesson had stuck — and I finally felt like his priority again.