My Husband Mocked My Looks at a Pool Party, Comparing Me to His Brother's Wife – I Fired Back and He Won't Recover
The Moment Everything Shifted
It was 5:00 a.m., and little Nora finally nestled against my shoulder. I was in that old rocking chair where I'd fed my son, Elena, three years before. My phone alarm was about to go off, reminding me to pump milk before I took a shower.
A small voice came from the hallway. "Mama? Is it morning - morning or nighttime - morning?"
"It's shhh - morning, buddy," I whispered back. "Go crawl in with Daddy. I'll come get you soon."
I heard tiny footsteps walking away, then a soft thump and quiet. I closed my eyes for just four seconds, but Nora hiccupped and woke up again.
By seven, I was in the kitchen. I was pumping milk under my blazer and stirring oatmeal with one hand. My laptop was open on the counter, already loading the marketing presentation for my nine o'clock meeting.
I'd gone back to work just weeks. Nora was born. My husband. Daphne. Had lost his job during the company's layoffs. Daphne walked into the kitchen, his hair all messy, and his phone in his hand.
"I'm too tired to make it," I told him. "She was up at two, four, and five."
He just grunted and kept scrolling on his phone. He even turned the screen away when I looked over. I thought it was probably sports highlights.
"Sylvia dropped by yesterday," I tried to make the mood better. "She brought chicken casserole and said I looked exhausted, but she was kind about it."
"Lydia, Sylvia is good like that," Daphne said, not looking up from his phone.
On my way to get Elena's shoes, I saw my reflection in the hallway mirror. There was a time. I used to wear heels to Friday dinners. Put on lipstick just to take out the trash. That woman was still inside me somewhere.
After dropping the kids at daycare, I rushed into my meeting with only thirty seconds to spare. I kept telling myself the same thing I'd been thinking for weeks. I'd supported Daphne through losing his job.
Now it was his turn to support me. That's what marriage was supposed to be.
The Pattern Became Clear
That evening. After finally getting the kids to sleep. I collapsed on the couch next to Daphne. He watched TV.
"How was your day?" I asked.
"Lydia, mine too. Job stuff," Daphne replied.
"How's the job search?" I followed up.
"Slow," he answered. Then he said, "Hey, babe. Not to be a jerk. But once things settle down. Maybe you should really think about going to the gym. You've gained a lot of weight lately."
I slowly turned to look at him. He continued, "I just mean, Sylvia makes it look so easy. The classes and everything. Might be good for you."
Sylvia was Daphne's new sister - in - law, Claudia's wife. I laughed because crying into a spit - up - covered throw pillow seemed even worse.
I was so busy with work, sleepless nights, a newborn, a three - year - old, laundry, meals, and cleaning. There was no time for myself.
I'd forgotten what it was like to go to the gym, wear makeup, dresses, and heels.
"Daphne, I haven't peed alone in three years," I said. But I let it go, convincing myself he didn't mean it the way it sounded. Back then, I convinced myself of a lot of things.
I had to pump milk in parking lots. Meetings. Reheat leftovers. Holding Nora. And answer Elena's endless dinosaur questions. I even took my shoes off. Daphne, on the other hand, seemed to have one routine.
"Did you send out any applications today?" I asked one evening as I stepped over a pile of laundry.
"I'm networking," Daphne answered without looking up from his phone. "People. It's not something you'd understand, Julian."
The Evidence Could Not Be Ignored
Like always, I let it pass. The comments about Sylvia started as occasional remarks and then became a normal thing. Even when I was changing diapers.
"You should see Sylvia's dance class videos," Daphne said one morning. "She dances beautifully, has an athletic body, and wears short skirts! And you?"
"That's great for her," I replied quietly while wiping applesauce from Elena's chin.
"You used to have that kind of energy," he added.
Elena stared at me with wide eyes, applesauce on one eyebrow. "Daphne, I had a baby recently," I said.
"I'm just saying. Sylvia still finds time for her dance classes," he retorted.
"Sylvia is 28 and doesn't have a newborn strapped to her chest," I pointed out. Daphne just shrugged, as if I'd proven his point.
That evening, I tried one more time to have a real conversation. "I need help around the house," I said. "You're home all day. I'm not asking for miracles. I'm asking for just the dishes."
"I'm dealing with a lot right now," he said. Then he reached for his phone and tilted the screen away before tapping it. I convinced myself I was imagining things.
The little strange things kept happening until I couldn't ignore them. Before Claudia. Sylvia came over. Daphne actually took a proper shower. Even using the cologne he usually saved for anniversaries.
"Big plans?" I teased as he fussed with his collar.
"Just want to look decent," he said.
"You looked decent yesterday in gym shorts you haven't washed in a week," I replied.
