I always thought housework was easy—something women just complained about. But when my wife left me alone for a day to handle everything myself, I quickly realized I was the problem.
I came home from work, dropped my keys on the table, and collapsed onto the couch. It had been a long day, and all I wanted was to relax.
The smell of something cooking drifted in from the kitchen, warm and inviting.
Lucy was at the stove, stirring a pot.
Danny stood on a chair beside her, his little hands busy peeling carrots.
Lucy glanced over her shoulder. “Jack, can you set the table?”
I barely looked up from my phone. “That’s your job.”
She didn’t respond right away.
I heard her sigh, the same tired sigh I’d heard a hundred times before. Danny, of course, didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll do it, Mommy!” he said, hopping down from his chair.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Lucy said with a smile.
I shook my head. “You’re gonna turn him into a girl, you know.”
Lucy stiffened, but she didn’t turn around.
Danny, on the other hand, frowned at me. “What’s wrong with helping, Daddy?”
“Boys don’t do housework, kid,” I said, leaning back on the couch.
Danny looked at Lucy, confused. She gave him a small pat on the back and handed him the silverware.
“Go on, set the table,” she said softly.
I watched as Danny carefully placed forks and spoons on the table. He looked proud of himself, like he was doing something important.
The next day at work, I overheard Lucy’s friends inviting her to their annual conference. It was just an overnight trip, nothing big.
At first, she hesitated. Then she looked thoughtful.
That night, she brought it up while I was watching TV. “Hey, my work conference is this week,” she said.
“I’m going. I’ll be back by noon the next day.”
I glanced at her. “Okay?”
“You’ll need to take care of Danny and the house while I’m gone.”
I rolled my eyes.
“That’s easy.”
Lucy smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smile. It was the kind that made me feel like I was missing something. “Good,” she said.
Then, she went to pack her bag, and I texted my boss that I would be off tomorrow.
The next morning, I groaned as I rolled over in bed, squinting at the alarm clock. 7:45 AM.
Wait. 7:45?
Panic shot through me as I bolted upright.
Lucy always woke me up when she got Danny ready for school. But she wasn’t here. Because she had left.
And I had overslept.
“Danny!” I shouted, throwing off the covers and stumbling into the hallway. “Get up, we’re late!”
Danny shuffled out of his room, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s at work,” I muttered, yanking open his dresser drawers.
“Where are your clothes?”
“Mommy picks them.”
I exhaled sharply. Of course, she did. Digging through the drawer, I pulled out a wrinkled T-shirt and some sweatpants.
“Here. Put these on.”
Danny frowned. “They don’t match.”
“It’s fine,” I said, tossing them to him.
“Just hurry up.”
I ran to the kitchen to throw together breakfast. Lucy always had something ready—pancakes, eggs, toast—but I didn’t have time for that. I shoved two slices of bread into the toaster, grabbed a juice box, and turned around just as a loud snap came from behind me.
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