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

“You have guests. I paid for the food and the clean house. You’re welcome.”

His dad muttered something about “working it out,” and I shook my head.

“You raised a man who thinks his wife is staff,” I said.

“I’m done.”

I walked to the door.

“Don’t do this,” Jason said behind me. His voice cracked. “We can fix it.

I’ll help more. I’ll shovel next time, okay? Just don’t do this here.”

I looked back at him.

“You said my broken arm was bad timing for your birthday,” I said.

“This is my timing.”

I opened the door and stepped outside.

My friend Megan was parked at the curb, waiting. I’d told her, “When you see three strangers go in, give it 10 minutes, then pull up.”

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