When I arrived at my pregnant sister’s house, I never expected to find her husband treating her like a servant. But what I did next, with a watermelon and a crazy bet, changed everything.
What are you supposed to do when you visit your sister, who is nine months pregnant, and see her being treated like a maid?
This happened to me while I was traveling for work and had to spend a few nights at my sister’s place.
The moment I stepped through the door, I knew something was wrong. Lily, my dear sister, was waddling around with a belly that looked ready to burst.
Her face was pale, and dark circles hung under her eyes like twin shadows. I could practically see the exhaustion radiating off her.
Meanwhile, her husband, let’s just call him “Mark” to protect the innocent (or not-so-innocent, in this case), was sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, and eyes glued to the TV screen.
That’s when I realized the root of my sister’s exhaustion. The very first evening, I witnessed firsthand Mark’s royal treatment.
Dinner was served. It was a simple pasta dish that Lily had clearly put effort into, despite her condition.
But Mark took one bite, wrinkled his nose, and declared, “Ugh, this is cold. I’m taking this upstairs.”
With that, he grabbed his plate and disappeared up the stairs. Soon enough, the sounds of his video game echoed down.
Lily, bless her soul, simply sighed and started clearing the table.
I watched in disbelief as she then loaded the dishwasher, switched on the washing machine, and began folding a mountain of baby clothes.
Of course, I helped, but this entire time, Mark continued his gaming marathon upstairs.
The next morning, over a breakfast of burnt toast (apparently, Lily’s exhaustion was affecting her culinary skills), I decided to have a little chat with my brother-in-law.
“Hey, Mark,” I began cautiously, “I couldn’t help but notice Lily’s doing a lot around here. Maybe you could lend a hand, especially with the baby coming so soon?”
Mark scoffed, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “Oh, come on. It’s a woman’s job, you know?
And judging by the pained expression on his face, the lesson was starting to sink in.
When the sun finally began to set, Mark threw in the towel, metaphorically and literally. He collapsed onto the couch, threw the rag onto the coffee table, and started removing his watermelon half.
“I… I can’t do it,” he groaned, putting his head back after throwing the hollow fruit away. “I give up!”
We were silent for only a second before Lily stood in all her pregnant glory and looked down at her husband.
As I prepared to leave, Lily wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you,” she breathed into my ear. “You saved our marriage and gave our daughter a father who will love and cherish her always.”
I hugged her back, warmth flooding my heart. I knew people weren’t perfect, and I hoped Mark would keep this attitude forever.
But if not, I would be back to give him another lesson; perhaps, with another fruit.
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