When I stepped out of the bathroomwhere Id stood under the shower for at least ten minutes, numb to the heat or the coldshe was already on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. The flat looked, as usual, like a battlefield. I walked past her without a word.
Oh, so youre sulking again? she muttered, not even looking up. Maybe you could start with the kitchen while the kids are asleep.
I stopped. Everything inside me tremblednot from hurt, but from something fiercer, like resolve. Suddenly, it was clear: if I didnt break this cycle now, Id vanish entirely.
No, I said quietly. Im not doing anything today.
Her head snapped up.
What do you mean, no?
I wont. No cleaning, no laundry, no cooking.
She laughed.
Another one of your moods Get some sleep, itll pass by morning.
But I didnt sleep. In silence, I packed a bagsome clothes, my phone, my documentsand walked out the door. No explanations.
Outside, the air was sharp, the wind sweeping down the street, yet I breathed deeply, as if for the first time. I called my sistershe didnt ask questions.
Come over, she said. Ive got a spare room.
I stayed three days. Three days without accusations, without must or should. The first day, I slept like the dead. By the second, my thoughts began to settle.
On the fourth day, I went back. Not homejust to the door. Where a worn-out, guilt-ridden woman had stood before, someone else walked in now. I wanted to see her face when she realised what shed lost.
She opened the door, pale.
Where have you been? Youve no idea what its been like here with the kids! Everythings fallen on me!
I stepped inside, looked around. The same chaosdirty plates, toys strewn about.
I see, I said calmly. Exactly how it looked when I was doing everything.
She frowned.
Dont start a row. I cant manage alone, theres no time
Twelve-hour shifts, I cut in. Every day. And then more work at home. Now you see what its like?
Silence. Then, softly:
I didnt realise it was this hard.
I sat at the table, pulled out a sheet of paper.
Look, I said. This is reality.
She stared at the listhour by hour, Id written down how long cooking, laundry, the kids, the house took. Beneath it, her daily tasks. The difference was staggering.
You actually worked this out? she asked, stunned.
Yes. This is our life. Yours and mine.
For minutes, she just stared at the paper. Then she stood and walked to the kitchen. No words, but I heard the water runningshe was washing up.
Dont expect me to get it all at once, she said quietly. But Ill try.
Even her voice was uncertain. I just sat in the armchair, listening to the water, the movements, the house slowly settling.
That night, the kids went to bed early. She sat beside me.
I think Ive been a right git, she said. Im sorry.
I dont want apologies, I replied. Just understanding.
She nodded.
I get it.
A week later, she bought a dishwasher. Then a tumble dryer. But the real change? She started waking earlier to make the kids breakfast, and sometimes picked me up after work so we could walk home together.
It wasnt perfect overnight. There were slip-ups, rows, exhaustion.
But slowly, she learnedits not the house that matters, but the people in it.
Now, six months on, the flat no longer looks like a warzone. Weekends, we take the kids to the park. Sometimes she even jokes:
Ill mop today. Or dyou fancy vanishing for another three days?
And I laugh. Because she knows I could. But I dont need to.
She learned the lesson. For good.
