My husband and his family spent months telling me to quit my “embarrassing gardening hobby” and get a real job. Funny how their tune changed once the money started rolling in. Now they all want a piece.

What I did next shook them. Some people think success changes everything. Well, I’m here to tell you that sometimes success just reveals who people really are underneath.

My name is April, and my husband is trying to claim half of the business he once called “embarrassing.” The same business his whole family laughed at is now suddenly a “family venture” after they saw the kind of money I make. I work from home doing data entry for an insurance company. It pays the bills but slowly kills my soul.

I’m an outdoors person stuck behind a computer screen eight hours a day. Meanwhile, my husband John works at a local bank as a loan officer. Two years ago, I was staring at our huge backyard through my office window.

All that empty space was just begging for something beautiful. I’d studied horticulture in college before switching to business. Flowers had always been my thing.

So that evening, I brought it up over dinner. “John, I’ve been thinking. What if I started growing flowers in the backyard?

Maybe sell bouquets online?”

He didn’t even look up from his plate. “Don’t even think about it. Just stick to your desk job.

Growing flowers won’t pay the bills. It’s a ridiculous and useless hobby.”

“But I have the background for it. And people are buying flowers online now.”

“April, be realistic.

You’re not some farm girl. This isn’t Little House on the Prairie.”

I felt my cheeks burn. “I’m just saying it could work.”

“Could work and will work are two different things.

Don’t quit your day job for some fantasy.”

“I’m not quitting my job, John. I just… I just want to try gardening.”

The next weekend, we had dinner at his parents’ house.

I made the mistake of mentioning my idea to his mom, Carol. She nearly choked on her wine. “Gardening?

As a business? Oh honey, don’t embarrass yourself. Nobody makes real money from that.”

John’s dad Simon nodded along.

“Stick to what you know, April. Leave the business ideas to the men.”

His sister Nancy piped up from across the table. “Why waste time in the dirt when you could just get another job like a normal person?

Maybe retail or something?”

Her husband Sam smirked. “Yeah, save the flower picking for retirement hobbies.”

John just sat there. He didn’t defend me even once and just cut his steak while his family tore apart my dream.

“Well,” I said, forcing a smile. “Thanks for the support.”

Carol patted my hand like I was a child. “We’re just being realistic, dear.

Dreams are nice, but bills are real.”

I didn’t listen to any of them. The next Monday, I ordered my first batch of seeds online. Sunflowers, zinnias, cosmos, and marigolds.

Nothing fancy, but flowers that would bloom reliably. Every evening after work, I was outside preparing the soil, planting seeds, watering, and weeding. My hands got dirty.

My back ached. John would watch from the kitchen window and shake his head. “Still playing in the dirt, I see,” he mocked when I came inside.

“Still building something beautiful,” I replied. “Building debt is more like it. Do you know how much you’ve spent on this already?”

I did know.

Every penny came from my own paycheck. “It’s an investment.”

“It’s a money pit. You’re just wasting your time.”

“We’ll see, John.

We’ll see.”

By winter, I had my first small harvest dried and arranged. I set up an online shop called “April’s Garden.” I posted photos on social media and made my first sale to a neighbor for $25. John rolled his eyes when I showed him.

“Twenty-five dollars? We’ll be millionaires by Christmas at this rate!” He laughed. But his laughter didn’t shake my faith in what I was building.

The first year was rough. I barely made any profit. But I learned.

I researched which flowers sold best, improved my arrangements, and built relationships with my customers. By the second year, orders started coming in regularly for wedding centerpieces, anniversary bouquets, and sympathy arrangements. I was working until 2 a.m.

some nights, but I loved every minute. John’s family still made their mean comments at gatherings. “How’s the flower thing going?” Nancy would ask with that fake-concerned voice.

“Still playing farmer?” Simon would chuckle. But I kept going. By the 18th month, I was making decent money.

In fact, real money enough to pay for groceries and utilities. Then month 24 hit. Orders exploded for spring weddings, graduation parties, Mother’s Day, and other celebrations.

I was booked solid. That’s when John got interested in my business. He was looking over my shoulder one evening as I counted some cash.

His eyes went wide. “Wow!! I didn’t honestly think your little hobby was going to get anywhere.”

I kept counting.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence!”

“But now that business is flourishing, I want my fair share of the profit. And I won’t settle for less than 50 percent.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m dead serious.

This is my house. You’re using my soil.”

I turned in my chair to face him. “Your soil?

We’re married, John. Both our names are on the deed.”

His eyes narrowed. “Actually, I owned this house long before you came along.

So it’s technically mine. Fifty percent. Period.”

“If you want to play that game, then you should know that in divorce, half of it would be mine anyway!” I countered.

He stepped back like I’d slapped him. “You’re being silly. Hinting at separation just because I’m asking for something I deserve.”

“DESERVE?

Excuse me? What exactly have you done to deserve anything?”

“I provided the land. The space.

The foundation for your success.”

“Your soil didn’t magically water itself, John. It didn’t trim flowers or arrange bouquets. I did every bit of the work.”

“While living in my house and using my resources.

Don’t forget that!”

“Our house. Our resources. And my sweat, my time, my knowledge, and my customers.”

“Stop this ‘my’ everything!”John crossed his arms.

“We’ll see about that.”

Word got back to his family about how much money I was making. Suddenly, their tune changed completely. At the next family dinner, Carol was all smiles.

“April, we’re so proud of how well the family business is doing!”

I nearly dropped my fork. “Family business?”

Simon nodded, suddenly looking all important. “Well, technically this is family land.

That means it’s a family business now.”

“Your flowers are growing on our heritage,” Carol added. “You should respect that, dear.”

Sam jumped in. “She wouldn’t have this business without us.

She owes the family a share.”

Nancy was nodding along. “It’s only fair. We supported her from the beginning.”

I stared at them all.

“Supported me? Wait! Are you kidding me right now?”

“We gave you our blessing,” Carol said primly.

“You called it embarrassing! You told me to get a retail job instead!”

“We were just being cautious,” Simon chimed in. “Good business sense.”

“Oh, so when I was busting my back after work, buying seeds, hauling soil, and arranging bouquets till 2 a.m., it wasn’t a family business?

Only now that it’s making money it is suddenly a “family business.” Am I right?”

The table went quiet. John was staring at his plate while Nancy frowned. Carol’s voice turned icy.

“There’s no need to be ungrateful, April.”

The arguments went on for weeks. Every family gathering became a negotiation, and every conversation with John turned into a demand. “You’re being selfish,” he said one morning over coffee.