When my husband smugly announced he was going on a resort vacation without me because I “don’t work,” I smiled sweetly and let him go. But behind that smile? A storm was brewing. He thought I did nothing all day. He was about to find out exactly how wrong he was.
I hadn’t slept a full night in three months. Not since Lily arrived and turned our lives upside down with her tiny fists and powerful lungs.
Don’t get me wrong: I loved my daughter more than anything, but the exhaustion was real. Maternity leave was much more work than being in the office.
That afternoon, I was bouncing Lily in my arms, trying to quiet her fussing while simultaneously folding laundry with my free hand.
My hair hadn’t been washed in four days, and I was wearing the same spit-up-stained T-shirt for the second day in a row.
Keith arrived home and walked into the living room looking fresh and crisp in his button-down and slacks. Not a hair out of place.
“How was your day?” he asked.
I forced a smile. “The usual. Lily was fussy most of the afternoon.”
Keith flopped down on the couch and stretched out his legs.
“Man, work was brutal today.” He kicked off his shoes. “Three back-to-back meetings. I’m wiped out.”
I bit my tongue. “Dinner’s in the oven. Should be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Great,” Keith said, grabbing the remote. “I’m starving.”
Lily started crying again. I bounced her more vigorously, patting her back and making shushing noises.
Keith leaned back and sighed. “It must be nice to stay home all day with Lily. It’s like a permanent vacation.”
A laugh escaped my lips, harsh and brittle. “A vacation? You think this is a vacation?”
Keith shrugged. “You know what I mean. You’re not working right now, so you don’t get tired like I do.”
I stared at him, wondering if he’d always been this clueless or if it was a recent development. Before I could respond, the timer on the oven buzzed. Lily wailed louder.
“Dinner’s ready,” I said flatly, handing him the baby. “Your turn.”
Keith took Lily awkwardly, holding her like she might explode. “But I just got home. I need to relax.”
“And I need to get dinner on the table,” I replied, walking to the kitchen. “Unless you’d prefer to do that instead?”
He frowned but didn’t argue. Small victories.
A week later, Keith came home with a grin so wide I thought his face might split in two.”Guess what?” he said, dropping his briefcase by the door.
I was in the living room, bouncing a fussy Lily on my hip. “What?”
“Mom and Dad are going to a resort next week, and they invited me to come along.” His eyes gleamed with excitement. “I’m going next week.”
I froze mid-bounce. “Wait… what?”
“Yeah, it’s this amazing place in Cancun. All-inclusive. Five days of sun, sand, and relaxation.” He sighed happily. “I need a break.”
A strange sound bubbled up from my chest. It took me a moment to realize I was laughing — not from humor, but from pure, undiluted disbelief.
“And me?” I finally managed.
Keith waved his hand dismissively. “Babe, you don’t work, so you don’t need a vacation. You’re basically on one already.”
I blinked slowly, the rage building inside me so intense I could feel it heating my blood.
But instead of launching the baby bottle in my hand at his thick skull, I smiled sweetly.
“Of course, dear. You’re the only breadwinner. Go have fun.”
Keith didn’t notice the dangerous glint in my eye. He just grinned, kissed my cheek, and bounded up the stairs, probably to pack his swim trunks.
Big mistake.
While Keith prepared for his “well-earned” break, I made plans of my own. Secret plans that involved teaching my husband a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
The morning of his departure, I kissed him goodbye with a smile so genuine it surprised even me. But then, I was about to get my own kind of satisfaction.
“Have fun,” I said cheerfully. “Don’t worry about us.”
“I won’t,” Keith replied, completely missing the point. “See you in five days.”
As soon as his car disappeared down the street, I sprang into action.
First, I emptied the refrigerator. After all, he clearly thought groceries appeared out of thin air since I did nothing all day.
Next, I gathered every piece of dirty laundry in the house and piled it in front of the washing machine.
I logged into our joint account and canceled all the automatic payments: electricity, water, internet, and streaming services. Everything.
Then I packed up Lily’s entire nursery. Crib, changing table, diapers, wipes, clothes — all of it went into the car.
Finally, I wrote a note and left it on the kitchen counter:
“Lily and I are on vacation too. Don’t wait up.”
I turned off my phone, strapped Lily into her car seat, and drove to my mom’s house.
Freedom never felt so good.
Keith had promised to call every evening, so I knew it wouldn’t take long for him to notice something was wrong, even if he was being incredibly dense about how much work I put into our home.
Two days later, I turned my phone back on.
His frantic texts started rolling in almost immediately.
“Sharon, why aren’t you answering your phone? I’m worried. I’m coming home early and will be home tonight.”
“Sharon, where ARE you?? Where’s Lily? What do you mean, you’re on vacation?”
“The fridge is EMPTY. I had to eat takeout!”
“WHY is the electricity bill overdue? They’re threatening to shut it off!”
“Where are my WORK CLOTHES? I have a meeting TOMORROW!”
I let him stew for another full day before responding with a simple text:
“Relax, babe! Since I don’t work, I figured you wouldn’t mind handling things while I took a break, too.”
His response was immediate and desperate:
“I GET IT, OKAY? I was wrong. Please, just come back!”
I smiled at my phone. Message received.
Two days later, I walked through our front door with Lily on my hip, surveying the damage.
There were dishes piled high in the sink and takeout containers scattered across the counter. The laundry situation had gotten worse.
And in the middle of it all stood Keith, unshaven and wild-eyed, looking like he hadn’t slept since he got back
