When I broke my leg, my husband refused to drive our kids to school because he “couldn’t be late for work” — then I caught him picking up his attractive coworker, so I decided to teach him a lesson. “Honey, you understand that the kids’ school is all the way across town. I can’t make that huge detour. I’ll end up being late for work,” my husband, Harold, kept telling me after I broke my leg. We have two kids, and I usually drove them to school every day, but obviously, with my leg in a cast, that became impossible. Sometimes I asked my mom to come over and drive the kids to school, even though she lived an hour away from us. Other times, I had to ask our neighbor, which was extremely inconvenient. No matter how many times I asked Harold to wake up earlier so he’d have enough time to drop the kids off at school or occasionally work remotely so he could take them, he stubbornly refused, saying it was all too inconvenient for him. Not to mention the fact that Harold rarely helped me around the house or with the kids in general, so I was doing everything I could while balancing on one leg and using crutches. One day, as usual, I asked our neighbor to drive the kids to school while I took a taxi to the hospital. I had an appointment to have my leg checked. When I came out of the hospital, I saw Harold’s car parked nearby. What was Harold doing in this neighborhood so early in the morning? Then I saw Adele get into his car, and they drove off in the direction of their office. Adele was Harold’s coworker. She was young, slim, and beautiful. Well, of course. Why make a detour to drive your own kids to school when you can make a detour to pick up your attractive coworker and drive to the office together? I hadn’t expected that from Harold. That evening at home, I told him I’d seen him picking Adele up on the way to work. Harold just shrugged and said: “Honey, I pick her up because Adele’s car broke down and it’s in the shop. Why wouldn’t I? We work in the same office anyway.” I could barely contain myself. “Harold, you’d rather drive to another neighborhood to pick up your coworker than take your own kids to school?” He just smiled and said: “Oh, what’s the big deal? You have your mom and our neighbor who can drive the kids to school. Who else is supposed to give Adele a ride? Coworkers need help too.” My jaw nearly dropped. It was obvious that he found it much more enjoyable to drive his attractive coworker around than to take his own children to school. Well, Harold, it was time for you to learn a lesson. The next morning, before Harold left to pick up Adele again, I left something for him on the front seat. Only an hour later, Harold called me and screamed: “Oh God, what have you done? Now Adele and everyone at work are completely shocked. How am I supposed to face everyone at the office now?”

September 25, 2026 admin No Comments on When I broke my leg, my husband refused to drive our kids to school because he “couldn’t be late for work” — then I caught him picking up his attractive coworker, so I decided to teach him a lesson. “Honey, you understand that the kids’ school is all the way across town. I can’t make that huge detour. I’ll end up being late for work,” my husband, Harold, kept telling me after I broke my leg. We have two kids, and I usually drove them to school every day, but obviously, with my leg in a cast, that became impossible. Sometimes I asked my mom to come over and drive the kids to school, even though she lived an hour away from us. Other times, I had to ask our neighbor, which was extremely inconvenient. No matter how many times I asked Harold to wake up earlier so he’d have enough time to drop the kids off at school or occasionally work remotely so he could take them, he stubbornly refused, saying it was all too inconvenient for him. Not to mention the fact that Harold rarely helped me around the house or with the kids in general, so I was doing everything I could while balancing on one leg and using crutches. One day, as usual, I asked our neighbor to drive the kids to school while I took a taxi to the hospital. I had an appointment to have my leg checked. When I came out of the hospital, I saw Harold’s car parked nearby. What was Harold doing in this neighborhood so early in the morning? Then I saw Adele get into his car, and they drove off in the direction of their office. Adele was Harold’s coworker. She was young, slim, and beautiful. Well, of course. Why make a detour to drive your own kids to school when you can make a detour to pick up your attractive coworker and drive to the office together? I hadn’t expected that from Harold. That evening at home, I told him I’d seen him picking Adele up on the way to work. Harold just shrugged and said: “Honey, I pick her up because Adele’s car broke down and it’s in the shop. Why wouldn’t I? We work in the same office anyway.” I could barely contain myself. “Harold, you’d rather drive to another neighborhood to pick up your coworker than take your own kids to school?” He just smiled and said: “Oh, what’s the big deal? You have your mom and our neighbor who can drive the kids to school. Who else is supposed to give Adele a ride? Coworkers need help too.” My jaw nearly dropped. It was obvious that he found it much more enjoyable to drive his attractive coworker around than to take his own children to school. Well, Harold, it was time for you to learn a lesson. The next morning, before Harold left to pick up Adele again, I left something for him on the front seat. Only an hour later, Harold called me and screamed: “Oh God, what have you done? Now Adele and everyone at work are completely shocked. How am I supposed to face everyone at the office now?”

After breaking my leg, I expected my husband, Harold, to help with our daughters. Instead, every morning he claimed he “couldn’t be late for work.” I had to rely on my mother, our neighbor, and even a car service while I struggled with a cast and crutches.

Then, after a hospital appointment, I saw Harold’s car outside an apartment building. A young coworker named Adele climbed into the passenger seat, and Harold drove her to work. Suddenly, his excuse about being late didn’t make much sense.

That evening, Harold admitted Adele’s car was being repaired. He insisted giving her a ride was no big deal because her apartment was closer to his office. When I reminded him that our daughters’ school was only twelve minutes away, he accused me of making things “weird.”

The next morning, I found Sasha’s school project on the kitchen table. It was titled “People Who Help My Family.” Under my name, she had written everything I did for the girls. Under Harold’s picture, she had written that he took “Miss Adele” to work because her car was broken.

I folded the poster and placed it on Harold’s passenger seat. Later, he called, furious, because Adele had found it. She had apparently been told that Harold already drove the girls to school before picking her up. Adele was shocked to discover that wasn’t true.

That afternoon, Adele called me herself. She explained that Harold had made our marriage sound very different at work. He claimed I preferred doing everything myself and never let him help. I realized he had turned my exhaustion into an excuse for his absence.

When Harold came home, I showed him the route from our house to the girls’ school and compared it with the route to Adele’s apartment. Then I asked one simple question: “Why was twenty-five minutes for her easier than twelve minutes for your daughters?”

He finally admitted that Adele thanked him and made him feel appreciated. I told him fatherhood wasn’t customer service. The next morning, I made him handle everything himself. For the first time, he understood how much work I had been carrying. From then on, he stopped making excuses and started showing up.

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