I was on a video call with my boss and a colleague, discussing our six-month project. I’ve been killing it, just needed to tie up a few things before tomorrow’s presentation. We’re about to hang up when I see their faces go all weird. I turn around, and there’s my husband, super angry, right behind me, yelling.

“Why are you always on these stupid calls? Don’t you care about us anymore?” he shouted, his face red with fury.

My heart dropped. This was not the first time he had interrupted my work, but never had it been this bad. I quickly muted my microphone and turned off my camera, praying my boss and colleague hadn’t heard too much.

“Brian, what are you doing? Can’t you see I’m in a meeting?” I whispered fiercely, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I don’t care about your meeting!” he yelled. “You’re always working! We never see you anymore!”

“I’m working for us, for our future! You know how important this project is!” I retorted, my own anger rising to match his.

“Well, maybe your work is more important than your family,” he spat back, turning and storming out of the room.

I sat there, stunned, my hands trembling. Taking a deep breath, I unmuted the call and turned my camera back on, forcing a smile.

“I’m so sorry about that. My husband is… having a bad day,” I said, trying to sound composed.

My boss and colleague exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s okay, Amanda,” my boss said kindly. “Why don’t we wrap this up and you can take care of things at home?”

“Thank you, I’ll finalize everything and send it over tonight,” I replied, grateful for their understanding.

We ended the call, and I immediately went to find Brian. He was in the living room, pacing back and forth.

“Brian, we need to talk,” I said firmly.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he snapped. “You’ve made it clear where your priorities lie.”

“That’s not fair,” I replied, my voice shaking. “I’m working hard to support us. You knew this project was important to me.”

“What about me, Amanda? What about our family?” he demanded, tears in his eyes.

“I’m doing this for our family!” I exclaimed. “But you can’t just burst into my meetings and yell at me. That’s not okay.”

He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “I just… I feel so neglected. Like you don’t care about us anymore.”

I sat down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Brian, I do care. I love you, and I’m doing my best to balance everything. But I need you to support me too. We’re a team, remember?”

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with pain. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I just miss you. I feel like I’m losing you to your job.”

“You’re not losing me,” I said softly. “We just need to communicate better. I’ll make more time for us, I promise. But you need to respect my work too.”

He nodded, wiping away a tear. “Okay. I’ll try. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“I’m sorry too,” I said, pulling him into a hug. “We’ll get through this, together.”

As we sat there, holding each other, I realized how much we both needed this conversation. Balancing work and family was hard, but it was something we could work on together. And in that moment, I knew we would find a way to make it work.