Within two minutes, the three sisters were sitting in the living room with my mother, looking at me with confused expressions. I stood before them, the faint murmur of the kitchen faucet continuing in the background.
Something inside me finally opened. I looked at them intently, one by one, and said in a firm voice something I never imagined I’d say in that house.
“From now on, no one will ever treat my wife like she’s this family’s servant again.”
The silence that followed was so thick that even the sound of the kitchen faucet seemed to fade. For a moment, none of us spoke.
Finally, my mother leaned forward slightly and asked, “What exactly are you saying, Daniel?”
Her voice was calm, but it had the same tone she always used to admonish me as a child when I crossed a line.
I held her gaze and replied clearly, “I said no one will ever treat Natalie like a servant again.”
Lauren chuckled and shook her head. “Daniel, you’re exaggerating. I was just doing the dishes.”
Melissa crossed her arms and added, “Since when did doing the dishes become a problem?”
Amanda spoke with the serious expression she always wore when she wanted to end an argument. “We’ve been working in this house for years, too. Why does everything suddenly have to revolve around your wife?”
I felt my face flush, but I didn’t hold back.
“Because she’s eight months pregnant,” I replied. “And while she’s out in the kitchen working, you’re all sitting here doing nothing.”
The room fell silent again.
My mother took the remote and turned off the television, which only increased the tension.
“Daniel,” she said slowly, “your sisters have supported you your whole life.”
“I know,” I replied.
“Then you should respect them.”
I nodded once. “Respect doesn’t mean letting my wife shoulder all the burden alone.”
Amanda rose from the couch. “Are you saying we’re the bad guys now?”
“No,” I replied calmly. “But things have to change.”
Lauren spoke again. “Natalie has never complained.”
