Nicole, darling, sort something special for dinner or order inno boring stuff! she said, tying a silk scarf around her neck like a sleek businesswoman, adding the final touches to her polished look. She handed out the days domestic orders to her husband, Andrew. The balcony in our flat is gathering dust; the laptops practically invisible. Give it a wipe.
You stopped working there, so the dust piled up, Andrew replied calmly, emerging from the kitchen. He draped a kitchen towel over his broad shoulder, cradled a childs mug fresh from the dishwasher, and wore an apron over a cotton tee. He leaned in for a quick cheekkissher lips already colouredbut Nicole brushed him off.
Do I have to be a housewife too? Isnt the office enough? she snapped.
When you were working from home we actually saw you, he said.
Thank heavens thats over! Nicole flipped her handbag over her shoulder, puffing herself up. Clean, launder, vacuum, tidy the toys, cookplease, at least say thank you!
Come off it, love. No need to lug the laundry to the river; the dishwasher does the dishes, the Roomba handles the carpet, and the girlswell, theyre just being kids, he sighed, trying to sound gentle.
Great, if you think so. Im more useful at the office than at home. Someones got to bring in the money, Nicole shot back, slamming the kitchen door behind her.
Nicoles mornings were scheduled down to the minute: up at six, a quick jog (shed only started running recently), a contrast shower, breakfast, makeup and a hairdo on the go. The city traffic was a nightmare, but she left early enough to avoid any delaysunlike today.
A year earlier, Andrews mornings were similar, except he skipped the workout, preferring a few lazy minutes in the warm bed with his lovely wife. His job was just a short bus ride away, so traffic was never an issue. By six or, at the latest, seven hed be home, helping Nicole with dinner or tidying up, playing with the girls, and often putting them to bed. Hed then help Nicole collect the toys or straighten the lounge.
Everything changed a year ago. The younger daughter, Lucy, had been in nursery for two years, and the endless sniffles of adaptation were finally behind them. The older daughter, Emily, a Year8 pupil, walked to and from the nearby primary school on her own, even rode the tram to ballet lessonstwo stops, taught by dad. Nicole was offered a return to her old office role; she mulled it over, thinking home was fine, but she craved the buzz of the workplace. A swift promotion was promised, and she accepted.
Three months later Nicole earned her first raise, then another, plus extra perks and a flexible schedulejust the sort of thing she loved. The kids barely saw her, but everyone understood; Andrew explained. Nicole couldnt keep up as housewife, mum, and doting wife. She arrived home late, utterly exhausted.
They sat down and talked. Andrew didnt want to nag; he knew there was no chance of Nicole quitting. They agreed to swap roles: Nicole would work without worrying about the house, and Andrew would quit his job to take on the thankless domestic side.
Eventually youll find something remote, Nicole urged him at first, a hint of embarrassment that a man would now have to make porridge, hang up the washing, iron the shirts, collect Lucy from nursery, drive her to the dentist, and take the younger one to the speech therapist. Youll manage, Im sure.
Youre brilliant, Andrew kissed Nicoles crown. Those are our last cosy evenings together, so remembereverythings fine at work and at home, he reassured her.
Andrew slipped into the new routine quickly. The endless texts from Nicole about what lay where, what to wash, who to pick up, vanished. He handled the chores with ease. The house didnt feel like a burden, the girls didnt irritate him as they sometimes did his wife after a long dayshe was simply tired. Meanwhile, Nicole thrived at her firm, respected by colleagues and bosses alike, trusted with any task. The family compromise let her blossom both as a woman and a professional, and she beamed with pride as her career rocketed.
Youre late, dinners getting cold, the girls greeted her at the hallway when she walked in from work. She untied the same silk scarf, muttering that the day had been a marathon of one task after another. Is the Bennet family not coming?
What? Nicole huffed, annoyed. Youre being ridiculous.
You said
Nicole glared at Andrew, halflaughing, halfscornful, as if hed overstepped a boundary.
I told you, its the weekend! she snapped.
You mentioned today.
Andrew, are you deaf to me? she hissed, marching into the living room. Whats this mess? Why didnt you change Lucys pyjamas? Who snagged the curtain? Was there a ball game in the flat again? Cant you play that outside?
Andrew, Emily and Lucy stood mute, unsure how to defend themselves. They hadnt done anything wrong, but they knew a mothers tirade could easily turn on dad.
This is how you welcome guests? Nicole gestured at the chaos.
They have kids too, theyll understandwe were just playing.
Honestly, Andrew! Look at yourself: no shave, shirt stretched, eyes glazed. She snapped, though he tried to keep the mood light, winking at the girls.
Come to the kitchen, well feed you. Exhausted? Andrew asked gently.
Yes! It drives me mad! Cant you do what I ask? Even a simple taskmake tea, because Im hungryseems impossible for you. You cant earn a living, and you cant manage a mop and dirty plates either.
A flash of anger crossed Andrews face, but he didnt argue in front of the children. He slipped into the kitchen, where Nicole had a list of complaints waiting.
You ordered dinner, didnt you think of me? I dont like spicy or greasy food. Make me a cup of tea, Im starving.
Make it yourself! Andrew retorted, hoisting Lucy onto his back and lifting Emily like a feather. Were off to brush teeth, its late, time for bed. Tomorrow the girls have nursery and school. By the way, Lucy had a photo shoot last week; the pictures have been on the mantel for two daysyou didnt even notice.
They left, chattering away. The bathroom echoed with the childrens chatter and water splashing. Ten minutes later Andrew returned to the kitchen. Nicole was still at the table, sipping her irritation instead of tea.
Feeling better? he asked. Work okay?
No! Works fine, but home?
Nicole, youre losing it! Andrew leaned in, eyes hard. Im not your assistant, not your secretary, not a subordinate. I never nitpicked when you stayed home, even though I could have. Youre not a robot; you can slip upthats no big deal, well sort it together.
Its easy for you to say! I used to juggle the girls and work from home. Now theyre older, they understand. You always said the dishwasher, washing machine, and delivery services would handle everything. Why cant you handle the basics?
Andrews lips quivered with fury, but he held back. What have you become? A loafer, a nobody, a housebutler. Soon youll grow a belly of your own.
Nicole!
Dont shout, I know what youre getting at. Andrew stormed to the bedroom, grabbed a pillow, and headed for the living room, announcing, Tomorrow Im back at work! Find yourself another househelp.
Coward! Giving up over dirty plates, Nicole shouted.
Andrew slung the pillow over his shoulder and left. Nicole fumed, then realised Andrew couldnt return to work tomorrownot until a proper replacement was found. She didnt chase after him that night, apologised in the morning, and agreed he could start later, once a suitable nanny was found to collect Lucy and assist with chores. Her just a little longer stretched to three months; a bosslike tone at home became the norm. She left daily task lists for Andrew, checking them each evening, and any missed item brought a scolding for both him and the girls.
One day youll pick up Lucy yourself, Andrew warned her one evening.
And you?
I cant. Ive got friends.
Right! Im pulling 7to9pm shifts, sometimes until ten, and youre off with the lads for a pint! I wont let you off! Ive got a planning meeting at seven tomorrow.
Im not asking permission, Im giving notice. Your days are meetings and emergencies.
I said no!
Andrew stood in the hallway, slipping on his coat. Where are you going? Nicole shouted, blocking the door. Im not letting you off!
Im not your employee or housekeeper. Goodbye. He slammed the door; Nicole hurled a string of invective after him.
Andrew didnt return that night. In the morning Nicole texted him a list of who to collect and where to be. He didnt reply. That evening, completely out of the blue, the nursery manager called, asking Nicole to pick up Lucythe last child left. Nicole bolted across town, firing angry texts at Andrew; the reply was silence. He didnt come home that night.
Nicole was furious. She wasnt jealous; she just wondered who would want a man like him. But Andrew kept silent, and Nicole, exhausted, vented her frustration in messages. She had to manage everything herself. Two weeks later she was burnt out, nerves frayed, sleepless, with an irate boss and nannies quitting one after another.
She called Andrew, demanding he come home.
Ill collect the girls on the weekend, but Im not coming back, he said, hanging up. Im filing for divorce.
The words hit her like a brick. She couldnt believe the man shed loved would stoop so low. The children heard the shouting, the raised voices, the accusations.
Later, their motherEmilys mumasked, How did he get those stains out of the school blouse? Im clueless.
Emily fetched a blue packet from the washing machine: an oxygen bleach. First soak in hot water, then a 40minute wash. It never fails; my shirts stay spotless.
Wow, a wizard, her mum replied.
Emily shrugged. Her mum flipped through the instruction manual, recalling every tiny chore Andrew used to handle, so she wouldnt have to juggle them herself while climbing the corporate ladder.
They eventually divorced. Nicole set a strict schedule for the girls time with each parent. Andrew still picks up Lucy from nursery and drives Emily to school, doing it calmly, oblivious to the bosss tirades.
Will dad ever come back? Emily asked one day.
Where would he go? Hell sit with mum and pop over when needed. Who else does he need? Nicole answered smugly.
Emily walked off, understanding that dad wouldnt return under those terms and that mum wasnt going to change.
Andrew went back to his old job, remarried a year after the divorceapparently, someone finally needed a mop, Nicole mused. He often collected the girls for weeks at a time, which suited her just fine.
The only thing that still irked Nicole was that her exhusband, now a nobody with no ambition, had quickly settled into a decent job. She was successful, smart, attractive, and stylish, yet no man stuck around past a few dates. After the first meeting theyd vanish, leaving no hope or phone number. Nicole began to wonderwhat was wrong with her?
