Book1 The Rise Of The Useless
Housewife
I dialed the client’s number.
“President Hardy, I’ve decided to join your Hardy Group’s new shopping mall project.”
Instantly, a reply came, “We’re honored to have such a renowned designer like you!”
“We look forward to welcoming you to Paris to work with us in two weeks.”
After calmly hanging up, I opened Instagram.
Since the awards ceremony, there has been a week of silence from him and his son.
It’s only through Felecia Ford and Ewen Wood’s Instagram posts that I can keep
1/8
Book] The Rise Of The Useless Hous…
+ 5 Points
track of my son’s whereabouts every day.
Tonight, Ewen Wood posted more pictures.
The first one shows them all smiling brightly under ancient city walls. The second one has Demir Wood nestled in Felecia Ford’s arms, looking just like mother and son. In the third, Ewen Wood wipes ice cream from Felecia Ford’s mouth, and when the live stream starts, I hear Demir Wood say, “Mom, you’re so beautiful. Dad and I love you.”
My hand holding the phone started to burn -I’m beginning to feel like an extra in this household.
A friend left a comment below, “Aren’t you afraid your wife will get jealous?”
Ewen Wood nonchalantly replied, “It’s just a team–building outing with an employee.”
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I’ve never heard of team–building events with just one employee, especially not like this.
I feel embarrassed by Ewen Wood’s excuse.
The last time Ewen Wood updated social media so frequently was a decade ago when he was pursuing me..
Back then, he would post ten updates a day about me, and I told him to be careful not to let it affect his work.
He shrugged it off nonchalantly, saying, “Anyone who looks down on me for showing love just doesn’t recognize talent.”
I don’t know when it started, but Ewen Wood’s Instagram stopped featuring me.
Instead, it spotlighted Felecia Ford.
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Her photos started appearing in various work–related posts.
Sensing a threat, I asked him to post our pictures together.
He frowned and refused, saying it was a professional account and that posting his wife wouldn’t look good.
But posting a female subordinate looks great, does it?
Gradually, I stopped bringing it up.
I liked his travel post and commented, “When will you be ready to come home?”
Ten minutes later, I checked again and found that Ewen Wood had already deleted the
post.
4/8
Wow, guilty conscience much?
Before I could put down my phone, I heard the sound of keys–father and son had returned home.
“Mom, we’re back. Is dinner ready?”
As Demir Wood kicked off his shoes and dashed into the kitchen, his face fell seeing a meal for one.
“You only made one portion? What about us?”
I knelt down to pat his head, “Mom didn’t know you were coming home today. I’ll whip up something more now.”
Demir Wood pushed my hand away, shouting in anger.
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“Mom, aren’t you a housewife? Even if you
didn’t know when we’d be home, you should always have meals ready that Dad and I like.”
Hearing my son’s reproach, my hand couldn’t help but clench into a fist.
But remembering he’s just a child, I restrained my temper and spoke gently.
“Mom’s a fast cook. Eat some fruit while you wait, and I’ll have it ready soon.”
Ewen Wood, who had been looking down at his phone, suddenly spoke up, “Demir, don’t give your mom a hard time. Auntie Felecia offered to take you to a buffet, let’s head out.”
“Auntie Felecia is the best!”
Demir, still angry, immediately broke into a
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smile, grabbing Ewen Wood’s hand. Without looking back, they walked out the door.
As I heard their footsteps fade, I quietly took a cake out of the fridge, lighting a single candle.
On the cake were the words “Happy Birthday to Manvi Nelson, celebrating alone.”
Today is my birthday, and neither of them remembered.
In the past, I’d have been heartbroken–not caring about Ewen Wood, but I would have cared about Demir Wood.
But now, I don’t care anymore. The trip made everything clear to me.
In recent years, my status at home hasn’t even compared to that of a dishwasher.
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They turn a blind eye to my efforts and sarcastically say I’m lucky to be taken care of while lounging at home every day.
I’ve realized now–this ‘luck‘ is better suited for someone else.
I’m leaving this family black hole to seek my
own success.
8/8
