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

That was the moment something inside me shut off.

This wasn’t new. It was just finally undeniable.

Every holiday, every gathering, every dinner—I did everything. He took the credit. I carried the load. And now, injured and in pain, I was still expected to perform.

I smiled.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll handle it.”

He smirked. “Knew you would.”

That night, while he went out drinking with his friends, I sat at the kitchen table, my cast propped on a pillow, and made three calls.

First: a cleaning service. Full deep clean, top to bottom.

Second: catering. Appetizers, mains, sides, desserts, birthday cake for twenty.

Third: my lawyer.

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