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

“Look, it’s not my fault you fell. And it’s not my problem. IT’S YOUR DUTY.

You’re the hostess. If you don’t pull this off, you’ll ruin my birthday. Do you have any idea how EMBARRASSING that would be for me?”

For him.

Not one word about how scared I’d been.

Just his party.

Something clicked in my head. Not a dramatic explosion. Just… a shift.

This wasn’t new.

Thanksgiving?

I cooked for 12 while he sat watching football. Christmas? I decorated, shopped, wrapped, cleaned.

He bragged to his family. His work dinners? I cooked and cleaned; he took compliments and said, “Yeah, she loves this stuff.”

I was his wife on paper and his maid in practice.

Now, with my right arm in a cast, he still expected me to perform.

I didn’t yell.

I didn’t cry.

I smiled.

“Okay,” I said calmly.

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