I was floored when my husband, Jeff, brought in a maid to “teach” me how to cook and clean like the ideal wife. Rather than push back, I played along. What Jeff didn’t see coming was the lesson I had in store for him — one that would turn his perfect plan topsy-turvy.
I’m Leighton, 32, juggling a full-time job, a chaotic household, and a 34-year-old husband who’s lately become an expert on what a “perfect wife” should be.
Jeff and I both work demanding jobs: he’s in finance, constantly stressed about quarterly reports, while I’m in marketing, which means my brain is fried by the time I get home. You’d think we’d cut each other some slack, but lately, Jeff’s expectations have been through the roof.
It all started after that infamous dinner at his boss Tom’s place. Tom’s wife, Susan, greeted us with this warm smile, wearing a perfectly pressed dress that probably cost more than my rent in college. Her house? Spotless. Not a speck of dust, not a misplaced throw pillow.
And don’t get me started on the five-course meal she whipped up as if she’d been born holding a spatula. Jeff couldn’t stop gawking.
“You see how Susan keeps everything in order? Dinner’s ready the minute Tom gets home,” Jeff had said on the drive back, his voice dripping with admiration. “You could take a few pointers.”
I bit my tongue, staring out the window to avoid rolling my eyes but Tom wasn’t done yet. “Why don’t you try a little harder? I mean, how difficult can it be to keep things clean when you get home before me?”
The comparisons didn’t stop. Every day was a new critique. “Susan keeps her house spotless. Susan has time to make fresh pasta from scratch. Susan always looks put together.”
He’d say this while tossing his dirty clothes two feet from the laundry basket or leaving his dishes right where he finished eating.
One evening, he came home and immediately started inspecting the house like some kind of drill sergeant. He ran his finger along the windowsill and frowned. “You missed a spot. Are you even trying?”
I glanced up from my laptop, barely containing my frustration. “Seriously, Jeff?”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe you could put in a little more effort. It’s not like you don’t have time.”
That was his new favorite line. Not like you don’t have time. As if my workday and commute weren’t as draining as his. But the final straw came one Friday night.
I walked in, dreaming of a hot shower and some rest, but instead, I found a young woman in our kitchen. She was holding a mop and wearing an apron, her eyes darting nervously around like she’d accidentally wandered into the wrong house.
Jeff stood beside her, arms crossed, with a self-satisfied grin. “Leighton, meet Marianne. She’s here to teach you how to clean and cook properly.”
I blinked, trying to process what I was hearing. “I’m sorry… teach me?”
Jeff sighed like he was talking to a stubborn child. “Yeah, honey. I’ve tried being patient, but clearly, you’re not getting it. Susan suggested I get someone to help you get up to speed. So, here we are.”
Marianne glanced at me, then at Jeff, and back at me. “I usually just… you know, clean houses,” she said softly, almost apologetic. “He offered me double if I’d show you how.”
I turned to Jeff, barely keeping my voice steady. “So, you’re paying her to teach me to clean and cook?”
He nodded, still oblivious. “Yeah. This way, you can get the hang of it properly. Marianne, don’t hold back.”
I wanted to scream. This man, who never lifted a finger, had the audacity to hire someone to teach me how to clean? I could see Marianne’s discomfort too, like she was dragged into some weird reality TV show.
I forced a smile, seething inside. “I’m sure I’ve got a lot to learn, Jeff. Thanks for looking out for me.”
Jeff left, pleased with himself, while Marianne looked like she was ready to bolt. I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Listen, I don’t need lessons. But I do have a little idea that could use some help. Are you game?”
Marianne’s face lit up, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”
I smiled, already plotting. “Let’s just say Jeff’s about to learn a lesson of his own.”
Over the next few weeks, I gave Jeff exactly what he’d been asking for: the perfect housewife. Every day, I woke up early, made his breakfast, cleaned the house until it sparkled, and cooked elaborate dinners that looked straight out of a cooking show.
I even dressed up every evening, greeting him at the door with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
But I was cold as ice. I didn’t nag or complain, but I also didn’t engage. No conversations about my day, no affectionate touches, not even a casual laugh. I became the picture of domestic perfection, but I was just going through the motions. It didn’t take long for Jeff to notice something was off.
“Hey, babe,” he said one evening, hovering at the kitchen door while I prepared a three-course meal. “You’ve been quiet lately. Is everything okay?”
I barely looked up, keeping my tone polite but distant. “I’m fine, Jeff. Just busy with the house, like you wanted.”
His brow furrowed. “You don’t have to be… this dedicated. I mean, it’s great, but it’s like you’re here, but you’re not.”
I shrugged, setting the table with precision. “I’m just focusing on what you asked me to do, Jeff.”
He nodded, but I could tell he was confused. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? A perfect house, perfect meals, perfect wife. But I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of my usual warmth, and it was starting to bother him.
As the days went on, I kept up my act. Every task was done flawlessly, but our relationship? It was as cold and mechanical as a well-rehearsed performance. I knew Jeff could feel the distance between us, but he didn’t know how to fix it. And I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
Then came the day I’d been planning for weeks. After a perfectly silent dinner, I cleared the plates and turned to him with a cheerful smile. “Jeff, we need to talk.”
He glanced up, a nervous smile twitching on his lips. “What’s up?”
I sat across from him, placing a neatly folded piece of paper on the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole ‘perfect housewife’ thing. Marianne really opened my eyes to how much work it takes to run a household like this. It’s a full-time job, honestly.”
Jeff frowned, not sure where I was going. “Uh, okay?”
“So, I’ve decided,” I continued brightly. “I’m going to quit my job and focus on this full-time.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re quitting your job?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! You wanted the house to be spotless, meals cooked from scratch, and everything just right. To do that, I need to dedicate all my time to it. But here’s the catch — I can’t do it for free.”
He blinked, baffled. “Wait, what do you mean ‘can’t do it for free?’”
I slid the paper toward him. It was a contract I’d typed up, outlining my new terms.
“If I’m giving up my career, I should be compensated. Susan doesn’t work, and Tom supports her. So, I’ll need you to pay me a salary. This is what I think is fair.”
He stared at me, his face turning from confused to outraged. “You want me to pay you? Leighton, this is absurd!”
I kept my tone sweet, but my words were laced with ice. “Oh, but it makes perfect sense. You wanted me to be a perfect wife, and I’ve been delivering. But perfection isn’t free, Jeff. If you expect me to maintain the household to your standards, I deserve compensation. And if you’re not willing to pay, that’s fine. I’ll just stop doing it.”
He gaped at me, the color draining from his face. “I never asked you to quit your job! I never wanted this.”
I leaned back, arms crossed, savoring every second. “Oh, but you did, Jeff. You wanted a house that looked like Susan’s, meals like hers, and a wife who dedicated herself entirely to domestic duties. I’m just doing exactly what you asked for. But I have my standards too, and if you want this level of dedication, it comes at a price.”
There was a long, tense silence. Jeff held the contract, his eyes fixated on the exorbitant salary. I could see the gears turning as he realized he’d dug himself into a hole he couldn’t easily climb out of.
Finally, he sputtered, “This isn’t what I meant! I work hard all day. I don’t have time to do everything around here!”
I stood up, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Exactly. And now you know what it feels like. If you’re not willing to pay me, maybe it’s time you start contributing more around the house. Or you could always hire Marianne full-time. She’s great, after all.”
I left him sitting there, flustered and speechless.
From that day on, Jeff’s attitude changed. He never agreed to pay me, of course, but he also stopped complaining. And suddenly, chores were no longer just my responsibility.
Jeff started picking up after himself, doing the laundry, and even cooking dinner a few nights a week. He never brought up Susan again, and I never saw him running a finger along the shelves in search of dust.
Turns out, when you give someone exactly what they think they want, they realize pretty quickly that the fantasy isn’t nearly as sweet as the reality. Jeff learned that the hard way, and I got the one thing I’d wanted all along: respect.
In the end, Jeff didn’t need a perfect wife; he needed a partner. And if it took hiring a maid and drawing up a fake contract to get there. Well, that was a lesson worth teaching.
What do you think?
Rich Man Met an 8-Year-Old Boy in the Town Square on Christmas Eve — ‘Can You Help Me Find My Family?’ the Boy Asked
On Christmas Eve, a wealthy but lonely Dennis stumbles upon a lost eight-year-old boy in the town square. Haunted by memories of his own childhood, Dennis soon finds his life changing in ways he never expected.
The square was alive with lights and laughter. Kids zipped around on skates, their cheeks red from the cold. Couples walked hand in hand, leaning close, bundled up, and smiling. A small group of carolers sang on the corner near the big tree, voices warm even in the chilly air.
A snowy street on Christmas | Source: Pexels
I took it all in, trying to feel… something. You’d think a successful guy like me, an orphan who grew up to be a businessman, wouldn’t feel out of place here.
But here I was, alone, like every other holiday season. I’d had a few relationships over the years, but my partners saw dollar signs, not me.
A sad man outside on a snowy day | Source: Midjourney
Suddenly, I felt someone collide with me, and I turned to see a young woman sprawled on the ground, looking up at me with a grin. Her laughter was contagious, and for a split second, I couldn’t help but smile back. She was beautiful, bright-eyed, with a spark that caught me off guard.
“Oops,” she laughed, still sitting there. “Sorry! Guess I’m not as good on skates as I thought.”
A woman on a skating rink | Source: Midjourney
“It’s alright,” I said, offering a hand to help her up. “You sure you’re okay?”
But just as quickly, a tall guy came over, scowling as he pulled her away from me. “Hey, buddy, what’s the deal here? Hitting on my girl?”
“No, I wasn’t,” I said quickly, backing off, with my hands up. “Just helping her up, that’s all.”
An aggressive man on a skating rink | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah, well, don’t,” he muttered, shooting me a glare as he led her away. She looked back once, mouthing a quick “Sorry,” and then they were gone, swallowed by the crowd.
I stood there for a moment, shaking my head. “So much for miracles,” I muttered. I turned to leave, ready to head home.
An upset man on a skating rink | Source: Midjourney
Then I felt a small tug on my coat. I turned around, half-expecting that girl again, but instead, I found myself looking down at a boy. He couldn’t have been more than eight, with wide brown eyes and a nervous look on his face. He clutched a small keychain, his hand trembling.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said, voice soft and polite. “I… I need some help. I can’t find my family. Haven’t seen them in days.”
A sad boy next to a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
The words hit me like a blast of cold air. “You… you lost your family?” I asked, lowering myself to his eye level. “When did you last see them?”
The boy looked down, shuffling his feet. “I’m not sure. I been lookin’ for a while, though. But… but please, sir, don’t call the police.”
“Not the police?” I asked, puzzled. “But if you’ve been lost for days—”
A serious man talking to a boy | Source: Midjourney
He shook his head vigorously. “No, no police. I heard people sayin’ that sometimes, when parents don’t have much money, the police take kids away. And… and my family doesn’t have much. They’re poor. I’m afraid they’ll… well, they’ll take me away, too.”
I looked at him, feeling a pang of something I hadn’t felt in years. I knew what it was like to be a kid worried about getting taken away.
A sad boy in an orphanage | Source: Midjourney
“Alright,” I said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “No police, I promise. We’ll just… we’ll figure this out. Okay?”
He nodded, relief flashing across his face. “Thank you, sir. I didn’t know who else to ask.”
“Call me Dennis,” I said. “And what’s your name?”
A smiling man talking to a young boy | Source: Midjourney
“Ben,” he replied, clutching his keychain a little tighter.
“Alright, Ben,” I said. “Let’s get you home. Do you know where you live?”
He nodded. “It’s a little ways from here. I can show you. I think I remember.”
A sad blue-eyed boy | Source: Midjourney
I called my driver, and we waited in the cold as he pulled up to the curb. Ben climbed in first, tucking himself into the back seat. I followed, shutting the door and glancing over at him. “So,” I said, trying to make conversation, “what kind of keychain is that? Looks pretty special.”
He looked down, fingers wrapped around the tiny silver heart on his keychain. “It’s… well, it’s just a keychain they give you at this place I stayed at once.”
A small silver keychain | Source: Midjourney
I looked at it more closely, realizing that it looked familiar. Very familiar.
“So, you like Christmas?” I asked instead.
“Yeah, it’s nice,” he mumbled, still looking out the window.
When we reached the address he’d given, I got out and walked with him up to the front door. He knocked once, then again. Silence.
A sad boy near a door | Source: Midjourney
“Maybe they went to my grandparents’ place,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced.
I glanced back at the square, its lights twinkling in the distance. “Alright, Ben,” I said, kneeling down to his level. “Maybe we’ll give it some time. How about we head back to the square and enjoy a few things while we wait? Have you ever been skating?”
A smiling man looking down | Source: Midjourney
He looked at me, his eyes lighting up. “I haven’t! Can we?”
I stood up, smiling. “Sure. Why not?”
As we headed back to the square, Ben’s face lit up with excitement. The whole place was glowing, with lights strung up on every tree and children darting around. I hadn’t done much for the holidays in a long time, but tonight felt different.
Christmas fair | Source: Pexels
“So, skating first?” I asked, nodding toward the rink.
Ben’s eyes went wide. “Really? Can I?”
“Absolutely. Let’s get some skates.”
A boy on a skating rink | Source: Freepik
Minutes later, we were on the ice. Ben took off, shaky at first, his little arms flailing. I was no expert, but I managed to stay upright. We slipped, stumbled, and laughed. I felt lighter than I had in years.
“Look, Dennis! I got it!” he shouted, gliding a little more steadily, a grin stretched across his face.
A man smiling after he fell on a skating rink | Source: Midjourney
“You’re a pro already,” I laughed, half-joking. “I’m gonna need lessons from you!”
After skating, we tried one of the carnival games—throwing rings onto bottles. He didn’t win, but he nearly knocked over the whole stand with how excited he was.
“Can we get hot chocolate?” he asked, eyeing the stand nearby.
Hot chocolate | Source: Pexels
“Of course,” I said. We got our steaming cups, finding a bench to sit and watch the crowd. As he sipped, Ben looked so content. His cheeks were flushed, and there was a peace in his expression that felt like a gift.
I looked at him, a warmth growing in my chest that I hadn’t felt in years. I’d only known this boy for a few hours, yet I felt connected to him. And I didn’t want the night to end.
A happy boy holding hot chocolate | Source: Midjourney
But eventually, I cleared my throat. “Ben, maybe… maybe it’s time to head back to the shelter.”
He looked up, surprised, and for a moment, his face fell. “How did you know?”
I smiled gently, pointing at his keychain. “I recognized that keychain the second I saw it. They gave out the same ones when I stayed there.”
A man talking to a boy on a Christmas fair | Source: Midjourney
His eyes widened. “You… you were at the shelter?”
I nodded. “A long time ago. I was around your age. So, I understand. I get what it feels like to want a family, even just for a night.”
Ben’s eyes dropped to the ground, and he nodded slowly. “I just… I wanted to feel like I had a family, you know? Just for Christmas.”
An upset boy | Source: Freepik
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I know. And I’m really glad I got to spend Christmas Eve with you, Ben.”
He looked up, and I saw the gratitude in his eyes. “Me too, Dennis.”
We walked back to the shelter in silence, the warmth of the evening settling between us. When we arrived, a familiar face was waiting outside. It was her, the young woman who’d bumped into me earlier. Her eyes widened with relief as she spotted us.
A concerned woman sitting on a street | Source: Midjourney
“There you are!” she exclaimed, rushing over to Ben and hugging him tightly. “We were so worried about you. We should notify the police you’re back.”
Ben squeezed her hand, mumbling, “I was okay. Dennis helped me.”
The woman looked up at me, her expression softening. “Thank you so much for bringing him back.” She let out a breath, then added with a tired smile, “I’m Sarah. I volunteer here. We’ve been searching for him since this afternoon.”
A smiling man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” I said, realizing this must be more than a chance meeting. We stood there for a moment, caught in a quiet, shared relief. She looked exhausted, her face a mix of worry and something else—hurt, maybe.
I hesitated, then asked, “Rough night?”
A man talking to a woman on a Christmas fair | Source: Midjourney
She nodded, looking away. “I found out my boyfriend… well, he was cheating on me. Tonight, of all nights.” She laughed sadly, brushing a tear away. “But I guess that’s how it goes.”
On impulse, I blurted, “Well… would you maybe like to get a coffee?”
She looked down at Ben, then back at me. “Actually… I’d love that.”
A smiling woman outside | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few months, I found myself at the shelter often. Sarah and I would meet there, talking for hours and helping out together.
The more time we spent, the closer we grew, both to each other and to Ben. He seemed to shine whenever we were all together, and soon the shelter felt like the home I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.
A happy family on a walk | Source: Midjourney
By the time the next Christmas rolled around, everything had changed. Sarah and I were now married, and Ben had officially become our son. That Christmas Eve, we went back to the square, the three of us hand in hand, surrounded by laughter and lights.
We watched the skaters, sipped our hot cocoa, and felt at peace as our own little family, a miracle in the making.
A happy family together | Source: Midjourney
Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: When Sutton is on a business trip, the last thing she expects to discover is that her husband is having an affair, resulting in a pregnancy. But after Jacob moves out, and the months go by, Sutton plans her revenge.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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