Every Sunday, my husband’s family of eight shows up for lunch — and for eight years, I’ve been the cook, the cleaner, the hostess, and the dishwasher. It used to be love. Then it became duty. And last week, I decided I was done.
When I told Rafiq I needed a break, he just said, “They bought us this house, is this your thank you?”
So that Sunday, I smiled. I made their favorite dishes — or so they thought. When the food was laid out, I stood, reached into my bag, and placed a folded catering receipt in the center of the table. The words “$346.70 – PAID IN FULL” gleamed in yellow highlight.
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They froze.
His sister Nehal squinted at it. “Is this a joke?”
“No joke,” I said, still smiling. “I did
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