I was floored when my husband, Jeff, brought in a maid to “teach” me how to cook and clean like the ideal wife. Rather than push back, I played along. What Jeff didn’t see coming was the lesson I had in store for him — one that would turn his perfect plan topsy-turvy.
I’m Leighton, 32, juggling a full-time job, a chaotic household, and a 34-year-old husband who’s lately become an expert on what a “perfect wife” should be.
Jeff and I both work demanding jobs: he’s in finance, constantly stressed about quarterly reports, while I’m in marketing, which means my brain is fried by the time I get home. You’d think we’d cut each other some slack, but lately, Jeff’s expectations have been through the roof.
It all started after that infamous dinner at his boss Tom’s place. Tom’s wife, Susan, greeted us with this warm smile, wearing a perfectly pressed dress that probably cost more than my rent in college. Her house? Spotless. Not a speck of dust, not a misplaced throw pillow.
And don’t get me started on the five-course meal she whipped up as if she’d been born holding a spatula. Jeff couldn’t stop gawking.
“You see how Susan keeps everything in order? Dinner’s ready the minute Tom gets home,” Jeff had said on the drive back, his voice dripping with admiration. “You could take a few pointers.”
I bit my tongue, staring out the window to avoid rolling my eyes but Tom wasn’t done yet. “Why don’t you try a little harder? I mean, how difficult can it be to keep things clean when you get home before me?”
The comparisons didn’t stop. Every day was a new critique. “Susan keeps her house spotless. Susan has time to make fresh pasta from scratch. Susan always looks put together.”
He’d say this while tossing his dirty clothes two feet from the laundry basket or leaving his dishes right where he finished eating.
One evening, he came home and immediately started inspecting the house like some kind of drill sergeant. He ran his finger along the windowsill and frowned. “You missed a spot. Are you even trying?”
I glanced up from my laptop, barely containing my frustration. “Seriously, Jeff?”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe you could put in a little more effort. It’s not like you don’t have time.”
That was his new favorite line. Not like you don’t have time. As if my workday and commute weren’t as draining as his. But the final straw came one Friday night.
I walked in, dreaming of a hot shower and some rest, but instead, I found a young woman in our kitchen. She was holding a mop and wearing an apron, her eyes darting nervously around like she’d accidentally wandered into the wrong house.
Jeff stood beside her, arms crossed, with a self-satisfied grin. “Leighton, meet Marianne. She’s here to teach you how to clean and cook properly.”
I blinked, trying to process what I was hearing. “I’m sorry… teach me?”
Jeff sighed like he was talking to a stubborn child. “Yeah, honey. I’ve tried being patient, but clearly, you’re not getting it. Susan suggested I get someone to help you get up to speed. So, here we are.”
Marianne glanced at me, then at Jeff, and back at me. “I usually just… you know, clean houses,” she said softly, almost apologetic. “He offered me double if I’d show you how.”
I turned to Jeff, barely keeping my voice steady. “So, you’re paying her to teach me to clean and cook?”
He nodded, still oblivious. “Yeah. This way, you can get the hang of it properly. Marianne, don’t hold back.”
I wanted to scream. This man, who never lifted a finger, had the audacity to hire someone to teach me how to clean? I could see Marianne’s discomfort too, like she was dragged into some weird reality TV show.
I forced a smile, seething inside. “I’m sure I’ve got a lot to learn, Jeff. Thanks for looking out for me.”
Jeff left, pleased with himself, while Marianne looked like she was ready to bolt. I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Listen, I don’t need lessons. But I do have a little idea that could use some help. Are you game?”
Marianne’s face lit up, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”
I smiled, already plotting. “Let’s just say Jeff’s about to learn a lesson of his own.”
Over the next few weeks, I gave Jeff exactly what he’d been asking for: the perfect housewife. Every day, I woke up early, made his breakfast, cleaned the house until it sparkled, and cooked elaborate dinners that looked straight out of a cooking show.
I even dressed up every evening, greeting him at the door with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
But I was cold as ice. I didn’t nag or complain, but I also didn’t engage. No conversations about my day, no affectionate touches, not even a casual laugh. I became the picture of domestic perfection, but I was just going through the motions. It didn’t take long for Jeff to notice something was off.
“Hey, babe,” he said one evening, hovering at the kitchen door while I prepared a three-course meal. “You’ve been quiet lately. Is everything okay?”
I barely looked up, keeping my tone polite but distant. “I’m fine, Jeff. Just busy with the house, like you wanted.”
His brow furrowed. “You don’t have to be… this dedicated. I mean, it’s great, but it’s like you’re here, but you’re not.”
I shrugged, setting the table with precision. “I’m just focusing on what you asked me to do, Jeff.”
He nodded, but I could tell he was confused. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? A perfect house, perfect meals, perfect wife. But I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of my usual warmth, and it was starting to bother him.
As the days went on, I kept up my act. Every task was done flawlessly, but our relationship? It was as cold and mechanical as a well-rehearsed performance. I knew Jeff could feel the distance between us, but he didn’t know how to fix it. And I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
Then came the day I’d been planning for weeks. After a perfectly silent dinner, I cleared the plates and turned to him with a cheerful smile. “Jeff, we need to talk.”
He glanced up, a nervous smile twitching on his lips. “What’s up?”
I sat across from him, placing a neatly folded piece of paper on the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole ‘perfect housewife’ thing. Marianne really opened my eyes to how much work it takes to run a household like this. It’s a full-time job, honestly.”
Jeff frowned, not sure where I was going. “Uh, okay?”
“So, I’ve decided,” I continued brightly. “I’m going to quit my job and focus on this full-time.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re quitting your job?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! You wanted the house to be spotless, meals cooked from scratch, and everything just right. To do that, I need to dedicate all my time to it. But here’s the catch — I can’t do it for free.”
He blinked, baffled. “Wait, what do you mean ‘can’t do it for free?’”
I slid the paper toward him. It was a contract I’d typed up, outlining my new terms.
“If I’m giving up my career, I should be compensated. Susan doesn’t work, and Tom supports her. So, I’ll need you to pay me a salary. This is what I think is fair.”
He stared at me, his face turning from confused to outraged. “You want me to pay you? Leighton, this is absurd!”
I kept my tone sweet, but my words were laced with ice. “Oh, but it makes perfect sense. You wanted me to be a perfect wife, and I’ve been delivering. But perfection isn’t free, Jeff. If you expect me to maintain the household to your standards, I deserve compensation. And if you’re not willing to pay, that’s fine. I’ll just stop doing it.”
He gaped at me, the color draining from his face. “I never asked you to quit your job! I never wanted this.”
I leaned back, arms crossed, savoring every second. “Oh, but you did, Jeff. You wanted a house that looked like Susan’s, meals like hers, and a wife who dedicated herself entirely to domestic duties. I’m just doing exactly what you asked for. But I have my standards too, and if you want this level of dedication, it comes at a price.”
There was a long, tense silence. Jeff held the contract, his eyes fixated on the exorbitant salary. I could see the gears turning as he realized he’d dug himself into a hole he couldn’t easily climb out of.
Finally, he sputtered, “This isn’t what I meant! I work hard all day. I don’t have time to do everything around here!”
I stood up, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Exactly. And now you know what it feels like. If you’re not willing to pay me, maybe it’s time you start contributing more around the house. Or you could always hire Marianne full-time. She’s great, after all.”
I left him sitting there, flustered and speechless.
From that day on, Jeff’s attitude changed. He never agreed to pay me, of course, but he also stopped complaining. And suddenly, chores were no longer just my responsibility.
Jeff started picking up after himself, doing the laundry, and even cooking dinner a few nights a week. He never brought up Susan again, and I never saw him running a finger along the shelves in search of dust.
Turns out, when you give someone exactly what they think they want, they realize pretty quickly that the fantasy isn’t nearly as sweet as the reality. Jeff learned that the hard way, and I got the one thing I’d wanted all along: respect.
In the end, Jeff didn’t need a perfect wife; he needed a partner. And if it took hiring a maid and drawing up a fake contract to get there. Well, that was a lesson worth teaching.
What do you think?
Father Notices His 14-Year-Old Daughter Receives Pricey Gifts from Unknown Man — Story of the Day
Bobby discovered a hidden stash of expensive gifts in his teenage daughter’s closet, along with a photo of an unknown older man and a note about a café meeting. He discreetly followed her to the café, unaware he’d uncover a secret that would tear his family apart.
Bobby had always been a doting father to Mia and often checked on her, making sure she was doing well. But for the past three months, he had noticed Mia was acting odd.
Her late-night phone calls, closed-door conversations, and the cigarette smell that lingered in her room convinced Bobby that his 14-year-old was up to something wrong.
So one day, Bobby decided to check Mia’s room for a cigarette or a lighter, but instead, he found a gift box hidden under a pile of clothes in her cupboard…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Inside the box was an assortment of expensive gifts — branded perfumes, a smartwatch Mia had long wanted, and a diamond bracelet. Then his hands landed on a photograph of an older man, likely in his 50s, and a letter detailing an upcoming meeting at a local café that day.
“My dear Mia,
I’m really excited about finally meeting you. I’m already picturing us talking, laughing, sitting next to each other. God, I hope this café we’re meeting at serves a vegan menu. But again, who cares about food when I’m getting to be with you? I can’t wait for this Saturday!
See you soon Love, V.”
Bobby read the letter again and again and couldn’t believe his teenage daughter was getting involved with a man her dad’s age.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
Bobby lifted the stranger’s picture off the bed and stared at it another time, trying to remember if he knew the guy. But he hadn’t seen this man before. A rage took over Bobby. He stormed out of Mia’s room and dialed her.
“Dad, I’m in music class! Stop calling me! Goodbye!” she hung up even before he would say a word.
Bobby dialed Mia again, but she canceled the call. He tried a few more times and gave up when she didn’t answer at all. Finally, Bobby put the things back into her room. He knew she’d be mad if she found out he had gone through her things.
After a while, Bobby took out his phone and began searching for vegan cafés in their town.
“Café Bean…that’s the only vegan diner? Were they planning to meet here today?” he wondered.
Bobby made up his mind. He disguised himself in a cap and hoodie and drove to the café. Upon arriving, Bobby scanned the eatery for any sign of Mia or her friend. To his relief, he spotted her alone by the window seat.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
A smile appeared on Mia’s lips every time her phone buzzed with a notification. Bobby felt a pang of jealousy. He missed those days when Mia would be laughing and joking around him.
It was as if she’d become an entirely different person since the day they’d returned from a routine checkup three months ago.
Bobby and his family were at the doctor’s office that day, awaiting their reports, when he was called to the reception to fill out a form. As he stepped out of the doctor’s office, in walked a new doctor with some papers.
“Mrs. Davis, can we talk in private?” she asked. But Mrs. Davis insisted Mia stay.
“Does your daughter have any hereditary diseases?” she asked. “Have you three taken a blood test together before? Especially Mia and Mr. Davis?”
Mrs. Davis’s heart skipped a beat. “N—No, doctor,” she said.
“I see,” the doctor’s brows arched. “Well, I see your daughter’s blood group doesn’t match your husband’s. Are you aware of this? Is Mr. Davis, not Mia’s—”
Mrs. Davis felt a lump in her throat and looked at the doctor, unsure how to respond. Her face drained of blood as her eyes darted from the doctor to Mia, who was surprised.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
”Wha—What do you mean my blood group doesn’t match my Dad’s?” Mia stammered.
”Well, your father’s blood type is such that…he’s unlikely to be your father,” revealed the doctor.
Mia’s eyes bulged in shock as she turned to her mother.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Mrs. Davis hushed Mia, pleading for silence. As Bobby returned, he noticed the worry etched on his wife’s face, but Mrs. Davis assured him everything was alright.
“What was all that about, Mom? Is Dad…not my birth father? How is it that my blood type doesn’t match Dad’s?” Mia grabbed Mrs. Davis’s arm as Bobby headed to their car.
“I’ll explain everything once we’re home, but don’t ask anything in front of your father. It’s better if we discuss it privately.”
Mia waited until they arrived home. Then she called Mrs. Davis to her room. “Now tell me,” she said as her mother entered her room.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
Mrs. Davis’s eyes welled up as she sat beside Mia. “The doctor was right, honey,” Mrs. Davis revealed. “Bobby isn’t your real father. When he was on a business trip to Cape Town, I met someone on a cruise in Virginia. It was a small fling… and I found out I was pregnant. I knew Bobby would love you like his own, and I didn’t want to hurt either of you by telling the truth.”
Mia’s jaw dropped as she listened to her mother’s confession. ”Who’s my real father?” she asked in tears.
But Mrs. Davis refused to reveal her affair partner’s identity until Mia threatened to have a word with Bobby.
”Okay, fine! His name is Victor! But you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone, especially not Bobby.”
”Where is he from? Mom, I want to know everything about him,” Mia pressed her mother.
Mrs. Davis shook her head as she turned to face Mia, her eyes filled with guilt. “We never met again after the cruise. And please don’t ask me anything about him again.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
That night, Mia combed countless social media profiles, desperate to find her biological father. Her heart raced as she stumbled onto a profile, her eyes scanning the details repeatedly. It matched her mother’s description of events—the name, the age, the location.
Mia typed out a message with trembling fingers. “Hey, I’m Mia, and I know this might freak you out, but I’m your daughter. You met my Mom at Island Temptations on a cruise in Virginia around 15 years back. Can we talk?”
A reply came minutes later. “What? Sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mia’s heart started pounding as she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves before typing out her response.
“My mom, Esther, told me you’re my biological father. I know this might come as a shock to you. But I know something that only you and my Mom know.”
There was a long pause, and minutes later, another notification popped that made Mia’s eyes water.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
”I don’t know what to say! Yeah, I met Esther on a cruise. We never met or contacted each other again after the cruise. I’m now happily married to my gay partner. We don’t have any children & I’m so surprised I have a daughter. Thank you for reaching out, Mia. Maybe we can meet. What do you think?”
Mia and Victor spent the night exchanging messages, getting to know each other. With each passing day, she started spending more time with him on video chats and was thrilled when he told her he would be passing through her town soon and would love to meet her.
A week before the planned meeting, Mia received a parcel. It was a gift box with an expensive watch, her favorite perfumes, a diamond bracelet, and a note with a picture of Victor. She couldn’t wait to meet him in person that weekend.
Mia’s phone buzzed loudly, snapping her to the moment. “Send me the café’s location, darling,” read Victor’s message.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Bobby, who was watching everything keenly from the corner table, clenched his teeth and fists as a man approached Mia’s table and hugged her.
”WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON HERE?” The sound of Bobby’s voice startled Mia and Victor, causing them to pull away from each other.
“You better start explaining!” Bobby demanded as he approached them.
“Dad…what are you doing here? Were you following me?” Mia rose angrily.
But before she could process what was happening, Bobby ignored her questions and threw a punch that landed on Victor’s jaw, breaking a tooth.
Victor toppled over the table, wincing in pain, the sound of shattering glass and startled screams filling the café as Bobby pounced on him and beat him up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“STOP!” Mia shrieked, but Bobby was uncontrollable.
”You stay away from my daughter, you creep!”‘ Bobby yelled, grabbing Victor by the collar. “How dare you flirt with my girl?”
”Dad, stop! Please, let him go,” Mia pleaded.
But Bobby had entered a place too dark with rage to listen, and there was no coming back. He planted another hard blow on Victor’s nose, causing Victor to black out.
The other customers in the café struggled to separate Bobby further away from a bleeding and unconscious Victor.
“OMG, what did you do…Dad, wake up! Dad!” Mia screamed. Bobby froze in disbelief, watching Mia cradling Victor’s head on her lap and addressing Victor as ‘Dad.’
“Mia, what’s going on? Did you just call him Dad?” Bobby asked her as paramedics arrived, and Victor was taken to the hospital.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
”Sir, we need you to come with us,” an officer approached Bobby with handcuffs.
A couple of hours later, the doctor entered Victor’s ward.
“Nothing to worry about. He’s stable now,” the doctor told Mrs. Davis and Mia as they rose from Victor’s bedside.
”Hello, Victor,” Bobby entered the ward, breaking the grave silence.
Following his arrest, Bobby was taken to the hospital to check his bloodied hands for any injuries. When he learned Victor was also admitted there, he begged the Sheriff to let him into Victor’s ward for a minute.
”I’m sorry about everything, Victor. I misunderstood that you and my daughter were actually…you know. I love my daughter more than anything in the world. What I did… was to protect Mia. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
“I didn’t know you were capable of this, Bobby,” Mrs. Davis said.
”Well, even I didn’t know that you were capable of…well, Esther, you’ll never see me again,” Bobby sadly lowered his head.
As he made his way out of the ward, he glanced back at Mia. “No matter what happens or who comes our way…I’ll still love you. I always will. My doors are always open for you,” he said in agony as he walked away with the Sheriff.
Mrs. Davis and Mia’s eyes were cloaked with sadness and regret as they realized they had caused irreparable damage to their family.
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a man who almost fainted after spotting a scar on a beggar’s forehead. The beggar looked exactly like his father, who had gone missing 20 years ago.
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