Chapter 4

I ordered some DoorDash and enjoyed a moment of peace—something I hadn't experienced since getting married.

Ever since I got married, I had stopped eating takeout.

Leo claimed takeout was unhealthy, yet he never cooked. Instead, he expected me to wake up at the crack of dawn to buy fresh groceries.

After making breakfast, I had to prepare his lunch. Following Leo's strict health standards and personal preferences, I had to pack a perfect bento box for him to take to the office.

He would say, "It’s too much trouble for you to cook lunch at home, and commuting back and forth wastes too much of your time. I'm just looking out for you."

But the moment I finished my own work, I had to rush to the grocery store for dinner ingredients. The second I stepped through the door, I had to put on an apron and start cooking.

After dinner, it was dishwashing, laundry, and deep cleaning.

I was working a job while simultaneously carrying the full burden of a housewife.

That was one of the reasons I eventually gave in to Leo's pressure to become a stay-at-home mom.

"Just be a stay-at-home mom. No more stressful office job. You'll have it so much easier, and I'll take care of you."

He made it sound so simple. But once Chloe was born, I was solely responsible for every single aspect of her life.

When Chloe grew old enough to offer to help me sweep the floor, Leo immediately stopped her:

"Chloe, let Daddy tell you something. You need to learn to be independent."

"Look, sweeping is your mom's job. She's the adult. That's her responsibility. You shouldn't be doing it for her, okay?"

I was furious. "Leo, what do you mean 'my job'?"

"Chores should be shared by the family. Chloe is growing up, and she wants to help me. Why would you teach her otherwise?"

"You don't even work a real job anymore. If chores aren't your job, whose are they? Mine?"

"Can you grow up? Do you seriously need a little kid to do your work for you?"

"This is exactly why I need to teach Chloe to be independent—so she doesn't end up like you!"

His voice boomed, startling Chloe into tears. Then, he turned his anger back on me:

"If you don't know how to raise a child, keep your mouth shut! Your random outbursts are going to ruin her mental health!"

So this was his version of "taking care of me."

I didn't have an office job, but the physical labor never stopped. It was just as exhausting, and he took it completely for granted.

And all his talk about teaching our child to be "independent"?

It was a joke. Parents are supposed to be role models.

He lived like a king, expecting everything to be handed to him on a silver platter. He wouldn't even empty a trash can if it was overflowing. What right did he have to teach anyone independence?

He demanded Chloe be "respected," so he used "respect" to control me at every turn.

Not making Chloe's favorite meal was disrespectful to her.

Not picking Chloe up from school on the dot was disrespectful to her.

Entering Chloe's room without permission was disrespectful to her.

If Chloe found trash in her room, it was still disrespectful to her.

Respect, respect, respect. For their twisted version of respect, I paid with my life.

But who had ever respected me?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I opened Snapchat and texted Leo: “I want a divorce.”

He replied instantly: “Why?”

“You guys want respect? Fine. I'm respecting you.”

“Since you both love snakes so much, you can have the house. I'm out.”