Before blaming your spouse, check yourself

Margaret walked into her house and froze in surprise when she saw her son sitting at the kitchen table.

Ryan had been living with his wife for almost two years now. Since they moved out, he and his parents only saw each other a couple of times a month — usually on weekends. But this was the middle of the workweek.

“Is something wrong?” Margaret asked instead of saying hello.

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” Ryan tried to joke, but when he caught his mother’s stern look, he sighed. “I left Emily.”

“What do you mean, you left?” she asked sharply.

Margaret had never been fond of joking around. Her job had shaped her — she’d spent years working at a juvenile detention center, and that kind of work leaves its mark.

“We… had a fight,” Ryan muttered, clearly hoping the conversation would end there.

“And?” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Are you planning to run home to me after every argument with your wife?”

“We’re getting divorced!” Ryan blurted out.

Margaret kept staring at him, waiting for a real explanation. Finally, he added:

“She wants me to take on more chores around the house. I’m already exhausted when I get home from work.”

“And helping your wife is going to break you?” Margaret asked coldly.

“She even said that herself. But I told her a woman is supposed to take care of the home. That’s her role.”

“And where exactly did you hear that?” Margaret demanded, her patience running thin.

She had just come home from a long shift. All she wanted was a shower, a quiet dinner with her husband, and a peaceful evening. Instead, here was her grown son sulking in her kitchen, repeating ideas that sounded like they belonged in another century.

She had spent her whole life with her husband, and she had never once heard him talk like that. They both worked. They both cleaned. They both raised their children. There had never been any “his jobs” and “her jobs.” And now her son had apparently discovered he was “the man of the house.”

“I’m asking you,” she said firmly. “Where did you get that nonsense? Dividing duties like that? Are you out hunting mammoths after work? You both have jobs. You both bring in income. That means you both handle the house. Did you offer for her to quit and stay home full-time? No? Then what are you complaining about? Have you ever once seen your father and me argue over dishes or laundry? We pull the wagon together. That’s how it works.”

Just then, David came in from work. Seeing his son, he raised an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

Ryan thought bitterly, Even their questions are the same.

“We’re getting divorced,” he said flatly.

“Well, that’s foolish,” David replied calmly, carrying the grocery bag into the kitchen.

“David, your son is being ridiculous,” Margaret said, and quickly explained the situation.

“So,” David asked, setting groceries on the counter, “is he planning to move back in?”

Then he turned to Ryan.

“Do you know what marriage really means? It means partnership. It means being friends. You support each other — not just in big moments, but in the everyday stuff. The boring stuff. The chores. If one person stops pulling their weight, the other ends up carrying everything. And that never ends well.”

Ryan fell silent. His pride was still bruised, and he had expected his parents to take his side. Instead, they had clearly taken hers.

His parents continued talking over the groceries, not even looking at him anymore. David unpacked the bags while Margaret put everything away. They moved easily around each other, like a team that had been practicing the same routine for decades.

Ryan watched them and couldn’t understand how two people so strict and tough in life could be so gentle with each other.

“Well?” his father finally said without turning around. “Why are you still standing here? Go home and fix this. And get those silly ideas out of your head about who owes what. In a marriage, you take care of each other. You help each other. That’s it. Now go. Your mother and I have our own evening to get back to.”

Ryan left his parents’ house feeling shaken. This wasn’t the welcome he had expected.

But somewhere along the drive home, his anger toward Emily faded. He realized he had picked a fight over nothing — and that he was the one in the wrong.

One thing, however, had become very clear: He wanted to build a marriage just like his parents had.


Adapted from the story shared by Lullaby for the Soul via social media recently.

End©Permadu

Visit Permadu Malaysia blog at permadumalaysia.blogspot.com


Adapted by Fauzi Kadir
Chief Editor

Assistant Editor
Nazura Othman


Final editing and brought to you by
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