I used to think housework was simple—just part of daily life that didn’t require much thought. But one day, when my wife Lucy left me in charge of everything, I quickly realized just how much effort it truly required.
It all started like any other busy day. I came home from work, placed my keys on the table, and sank into the couch. It had been a long day, and all I wanted was to relax. The inviting aroma of dinner filled the air, drifting in from the kitchen. Lucy was at the stove, stirring something in a pot, while our son, Danny, stood on a chair beside her, carefully peeling carrots.
“Jack, can you set the table?” Lucy asked over her shoulder.
Without looking up from my phone, I replied, “That’s your job.”
Lucy paused for a moment before sighing, a quiet but telling expression of fatigue. Danny, however, remained cheerful.
“I’ll do it, Mommy!” he said eagerly, hopping off his chair to help.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Lucy said, her voice warm with appreciation.
Danny began setting the table with care, clearly taking pride in the task. Something about the moment gave me pause, though I didn’t fully understand why.
The next day at work, I overheard Lucy discussing an upcoming overnight work conference with her friends. That evening, she brought it up while I was watching TV.
“Hey, I’m going to the conference tomorrow. I’ll be back by noon the next day.”
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