He Chose Her—In My Own House / Chapter 1: When Gratitude Cuts Deep
He Chose Her—In My Own House

He Chose Her—In My Own House

Author: Jack Marsh

Chapter 1: When Gratitude Cuts Deep

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Daisy Monroe—the girl the Whitmore family sponsored—finally got into grad school.

Back home in our little Appalachian town, folks would cluck their tongues and say, “That Daisy’s got her head in the clouds, chasing a city dream.” But now here she was, standing at the edge of something big. She posted her story online, and you could practically feel her excitement buzzing through the screen. She wrote about clawing her way from a one-stoplight town to the city’s neon glow, her words full of gratitude and a kind of stunned joy.

She posted a photo too: her and Harrison Whitmore, caught mid-laugh, eyes meeting like there wasn’t another soul in the world. The caption: “He’s my mentor, my rock, the most important person in my life 🐾.”

The comments section blew up—everyone was rooting for her.

“Girl, you’re such an inspiration! I hope I can be half as brave as you.”

“The way you two look at each other? Please, you’re not fooling anyone. I’m shipping you guys so hard.”

“Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding! I’ll bring a gift card the size of Texas.”

“Isn’t that Haverhill’s youngest advisor? Getting your mentor to basically be your personal tutor? Now that’s what I call a thank-you.”

...

Daisy herself pinned a reply: “Thanks for all the love, y’all! Guess I’ll just have to get another degree, huh? (dog meme)”

I just sat there, quiet, thumb hovering as I scrolled down to her newest post. My mind went blank for a second.

Screenshots. Daisy’s thesis, her full acknowledgments—front and center.

Line after line thanked Harrison for his late-night advice and endless patience.

I stared at those pictures for a long time, feeling something cold settle in my chest.

I’d seen those files on Harrison’s laptop; he’d told me this thesis was a big deal for him.

I’d stayed up late, feverish, helping him review it. It never crossed my mind I was just doing the work so someone else could take the credit.

Right then, it hit me: even the strongest marriages can start to crack.

The realization punched me in the gut—cold, sharp, and sudden. I’d always figured our marriage was solid, unshakeable. But staring at those words, gratitude that should have been for me, I felt the ground tilt under my feet. Just like that.

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