Dont bring the Harpers over today, cook something special or order in, but no clichés! Nikki wrapped a silk scarf around her neck, smoothing the last touches of a businesswomans look, as she handed out the days household orders to her husband. Theres a layer of dust on the balcony, soon the laptop wont even be visible. Wipe it down.
You stopped working there, thats why the dust builds up, Andrew replied calmly, emerging from the kitchen with a kitchen towel draped over his broad shoulder, a freshly washed childs mug in his hand, and a knit apron over his Tshirt. He stepped toward his wife, intending to plant a quick cheek kiss now that his lips were already tinted, but Nikki brushed him away, irritated.
Do I have to tend the house too? Isnt the office enough? she snapped.
When you were home we at least saw you, he said.
Thank God thats over! Nikki tossed her handbag strap over her shoulder, puffing herself up. Clean, wash, vacuum, collect the toys, cook a meal please, at least a thank you?
Come off it! No need to haul the laundry to the river, the dishwasher does the dishes, the robot vacuum does the floors, and the girls well, theyre kids, theyll be mischievous, Andrew sighed, trying to sound sweet.
If thats how you see it, fine. Im more useful at work than at home. Someone has to bring in the money, Nikki said, slamming the door behind her.
Nikkis mornings were scheduled to the minute: up at six, a quick run (shed only recently taken up jogging), a contrast shower, breakfast, makeup and hair on the go. London traffic snarled in the centre, but she left early enough that nothing held her up at home, as it had that morning.
A year earlier Andrews mornings were similar, except he skipped the exercise and lingered a few extra minutes in the warm bed beside his beloved wife. His office was nearby, so traffic was never an issue. By six or, at the latest, seven he was home, helping Nikki with dinner or tidying up, playing with the girls, tucking them into bed, then gathering toys or straightening the living room.
Everything changed a year ago. The younger daughter, Poppy, was in her second year of nursery; the endless sniffles of the adjustment period had finally faded. The older daughter, Charlotte, a thirdgrader, walked to and from the school in the neighbouring suburb on her own and even took the tram to ballet lessons two stops, which Andrew had taught her to navigate. Nikki was offered a chance to return to her old office job. She hesitated; home was comfortable, but she missed the buzz of the workplace and the promise of a quick promotion. She accepted.
Three months later she received her first raise, then another, plus extra perks and a flexible schedule that she loved. The girls hardly saw her, but everyone understood; Andrew explained the situation. Nikki couldnt keep up as housewife, mother, and devoted wife. She came home late, exhausted.
They talked it through. Andrew didnt want to gripe; he knew there was no chance of dismissal. They agreed to swap roles: Nikki would focus on work without looking back, and Andrew would quit his job and take on the thankless part of family life.
Eventually youll find something remote, Nikki coaxed at first, embarrassed that he would now have to make porridge, hang laundry, iron shirts, collect the girls from nursery, drive them to the dentist and speech therapist. Youll manage, I know it.
Youre brilliant, Andrew whispered, kissing the top of her head. These will be our last evenings together as a couple, so do well at work, love.
Andrew adapted quickly. The constant messages about which towel went where, what laundry cycle to use, or who to pick up at what time stopped. He handled the chores without complaint. The tasks didnt wear him down, and the girls didnt irritate him as they sometimes did their mother after a long day. Meanwhile, Nikki thrived at her firm, respected by subordinates, peers, and senior management, trusted with any assignment. The compromise let her flourish both as a professional and as a woman. Her career surged upward.
Late again, dinners getting cold, Charlotte and Poppy greeted her at the hallway after work. Nikki untied the silk scarf, the one Andrew had never let her relax all day, as one task piled onto the next. Did the Harpers not come?
What? Nikki snapped, annoyed. Youre driving me mad.
You said
I said Id be home on the weekend!
You mentioned today.
Andrew, have you forgotten how to listen to me? she muttered, moving into the living room. Whats with this mess? Why didnt you change Poppys shirt? Who tangled the curtain? Did the kids play ball inside again? Cant they do that outside?
Andrew, Charlotte and Poppy stood mute, unsure how to defend themselves. Such scenes had become common lately.
So this is how you expected guests? Nikki gestured at the chaos.
They have kids too, theyll understandwe were just playing.
Andrew! Look at you nowshaggy, stretched shirt, vacant stare.
Andrew, still in a light-hearted mood, winked at his daughters. Moms joking, shes tired, he tried to defuse the tension.
Come to the kitchen, well feed you. Exhausted? he asked gently.
Yes! Im fed up with this attitude! Is it really that hard to do what I ask? Even a fool could manage. You cant earn a salary and also survive with a mop and dirty plates.
A flash of anger crossed Andrews face, but he kept his cool for the kids sake. Nikki walked into the kitchen, ready to pick a new gripe.
You ordered dinner, didnt you think of me? I dont like spicy, oily food. Make me tea since Im still hungry.
Make it yourself! Andrew retorted, hoisting the younger daughter onto his back, lifting the older with one hand as if she were a feather. Were brushing teeth, its late, time for bed. Tomorrow the girls have nursery and school. By the way, Poppy had a photo shoot last week; the pictures have been on the mantel for two days. You didnt even notice.
They left, chattering. In the bathroom the childrens chatter faded to the sound of running water. After a few minutes the bedroom door closed and silence fell. Ten minutes later Andrew returned to the kitchen. Nikki was still at the table, nursing a sour feeling instead of the hot tea shed wanted.
Calmed down? he asked. Whats wrong? Work issues?
No, works fine. Its home
Nikki, youre losing it! Andrew leaned in, his voice stern. Im not your assistant, not your secretary, not your subordinate. I never nitpicked when you stayed at home, even when there was cause. Youre not a robot; you can slip up, thats okaywell 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 washes, the washing machine washes, food can be orderedwhy cant you handle basic tasks? Why?
Andrews lips twitched with fury, but he held back. What have you become? A drudge, a nobody, a housemanager. Soon youll grow a belly of your own.
Nikki
Dont shout, I know why youre upset.
Andrew stormed to the bedroom, grabbed a pillow, and headed for the living room, shouting one last thing: Tomorrow Im going back to work! Find yourself another house helper.
You weakling! You gave up over dirty plates? Nikki yelled back.
Andrew, pillow under his arm, left the room. Nikkis anger simmered, then faded as reality sank in: Andrew couldnt start work immediately; he needed a few weeks to find a proper replacement for the girls transport and care. She apologized in the morning, agreeing to give him time. Her wait a little stretched to three months, and the bossy tone at home became the new norm. She left a daily chore list for Andrew, checking each evening; any missed item earned a reprimand for both him and the girls.
One day youll have to pick up Poppy yourself, Andrew announced one afternoon.
And you?
I cant. Im meeting friends.
Unbelievable! Im working until seven, eight, even ten, and youre off drinking with mates! I wont let you off! I have a planning meeting at sevenpm tomorrow.
Im not asking permission; Im informing you. You have a meeting every day, then a crisis.
I said no!
Andrew slipped on his coat in the hallway. Where are you going? Nikki shouted, grabbing his sleeve. Im not letting you leave!
Im not your employee or housekeeper. Bye. He slammed the door, and Nikki hurled a string of insults after him.
That night Andrew didnt return home. In the morning Nikki sent him a long message with instructionswho to pick up, where to go. He didnt reply. Later, an unexpected call came from Poppys nursery asking her to collect the last child left behind. Nikki dropped everything, raced across the city, typing angry texts to her husband along the way. He stayed silent. He didnt come home that night.
Nikki was furious, but not jealous. She wondered why he would stay awaywho needed him? People like him never left. Yet Andrew kept his silence, and Nikkis messages turned into a tirade. She learned to manage alone, juggling work, the girls, and the endless demands. Two weeks later she was completely drainednerves frayed, sleepless nights, dissatisfied superiors, nannies canceling one after another.
She called Andrew, demanding he return.
Ill pick up the girls on the weekend, but Im not coming back.
Youre serious? You liked the stressfree life? Im not going to carry your kids either
Im filing for divorce, Andrew said, hanging up, knowing Nikki would have nothing sensible left to say.
She was speechless. She couldnt believe he would go that far. The children overheard their mothers angry phone calls, hearing her call him worthless.
Later, Charlotte asked her mother, holding a white school blouse, Mum, how did he get those stains out of the sleeves? I forgot how to treat them.
Just Mum, Charlotte replied, pulling a blue packet from the washing machinea oxygen cleaner. First soak in hot water, then wash at forty degrees. He never made it complicated; my shirts were always spotless.
Almost a wizard, Charlotte added.
Dad used that powder for everything: my white sneakers, stains on Poppys dresses.
I wanted to throw it away, Charlotte shrugged.
Mum wrestled with the countless tiny tasks that had once fallen to Andrew, remembering how many little things he handled to keep her career afloat.
They divorced. Nikki set a clear schedule for the girls time with each parent. Andrew still shuttled Poppy to nursery and Charlotte to school, calmly, oblivious to any lingering resentment from his former boss.
Will dad ever come back? Charlotte asked one day.
Where would he go? Hell stay with mum. Who else needs him? Nikki answered confidently.
Charlotte walked away, realizing her father wouldnt return under those terms and that her mother wasnt likely to change.
A year after the split, Andrew went back to his old job, remarried, and even bought a new mopNikki thought wryly. He often collected the girls for a week or two, which suited her just fine.
The only annoyance was that her exhusband, now a contented, ambitionfree man, seemed to land on his feet, while she, successful and attractive, only attracted brief encounters that fizzled after the first date. She began to wonder what was wrong with her.
In the end, Nikki realized that the battle for balance isnt won by forcing one partner into a role they despise, but by sharing the load, communicating honestly, and respecting each others limits. The true lesson: a family thrives when love and duty are divided fairly, not when one person bears the weight of everything alone.
