My Husband Made Me Host His Birthday Party with My Arm Broken – So I Taught Him a Lesson He Will Never Forget

“No lifting. No cooking. No cleaning. You need help.”

I went home, shaking, medicated, exhausted.

Jason was on the couch, watching TV.

He glanced at the cast and frowned.
“Wow. That’s bad timing.”

I waited for concern. It never came.

“How are we supposed to do my birthday party now?” he asked. “Twenty people. You’re hosting.”

I stared at him. “I broke my arm because you didn’t shovel.”

“You should’ve been more careful,” he said. “You rush everywhere.”

Then he said it, calm and casual:“It’s your duty. You’re the hostess. If this doesn’t happen, it’ll be embarrassing for me.”

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