I was picking up Carter from Windsor Elementary when I ran into Lily Whitman’s mom. Just as I was about to greet her, Carter jumped out in front of me, blocking my way. “This is our nanny. You don’t need to talk to her!” Then he turned to me and shouted, “You’re embarrassing! Don’t come to school looking like that!” I was furious when I got home and immediately complained to Nathan, but instead of support, he snapped at me. “Well, if both of you think I’m such an embarrassment, I’ll just spend all my time and money on beauty treatments and new clothes. Let’s see how that goes.” And as for being the “free nanny”? Whoever wants the job can have it. The very first day I stopped doing everything, Carter’s clothes weren’t washed, his homework wasn’t done, and he was late to school. My little prince went from being the class favorite to looking like a scruffy kid from the wrong side of town. Nathan stormed at me, “You’re making excuses to go to work and not even taking care of our son? Vivian, how can you be so selfish?” I calmly replied, “6.” Both Nathan and Carter were about to lose it.
When we got home from school, I sat on the couch with a cold expression. I didn’t cook dinner, didn’t clean, didn’t wash a single piece of clothing. Carter, as usual, didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. He expected everything to continue like normal. “Mom, I’m hungry! Hurry up and make dinner!” he demanded. I shot him a look and said, “Don’t call me Mom. I’m not your mom.” Carter’s face flushed with anger. I had promised him burgers and fried chicken after school, but after his performance at the school gate, those plans were gone. Earlier, I’d seen Carter chatting up Lily, laughing his head off like nothing else mattered. Next to Lily was her mom, Sophia Whitman, looking effortlessly stylish. I walked over, intending to greet her, but the second Carter saw me, his face dropped. He jumped right in front of me and cut me off, loudly proclaiming, “This is our nanny. You don’t need to talk to her!” He turned and yelled at me again, “You look so embarrassing. Don’t come to school looking like that!” It was pickup time, and other parents were passing by, giving me curious looks. Sophia Whitman’s face was full of surprise as she glanced at me with concern, slightly raising her brows. I looked down at my faded clothes. Between taking care of the house and family, I hadn’t had time to dress up. My ungrateful little brat had the nerve to be ashamed of me? But I wasn’t going to take it lying down. I slapped some sense into him, hard. Carter’s face turned beet red. I mumbled an apology to Sophia and walked away without looking back. Carter, in a panic, came running after me, wailing, knowing I was furious. He probably thought I wasn’t going to take him for fried chicken anymore. As if! I wasn’t going to give him anything. He could have looked like fried chicken for all I cared. Once we got home, Carter locked himself in his room and gave me a dirty look. I looked around at the dirty laundry and messy living room and sank deep into thought. It’s been seven years since I became a full-time mom. I gave up my job for Carter. Every little thing—meals, laundry, school, health—was all on me. But today, the way he acted made me realize all my efforts were for nothing. Why had I sacrificed so much? When I refused to make him dinner, Carter lost it completely. He threw himself on the floor and started screaming. “I wasn’t wrong! You don’t even have a job. What’s the difference between you and a nanny? I’m telling Dad!” To my shock, Nathan frowned when he heard the story, and his eyes were full of disappointment when he looked at me. “Why are you making a big deal over what a kid says? You promised him fried chicken today. No wonder Carter’s upset!”
“Nathan, are you serious?!” I couldn’t believe it. “Your son has serious issues, and when I try to teach him a lesson, somehow it’s my fault?” Nathan’s face showed nothing but annoyance. “Carter’s just a kid. What does he know? But you’ve let him go hungry this long? That’s on you.” Carter looked smug, glancing at me, while he whined to Nathan about wanting fried chicken. Before the two of them could head out, I yelled, “If either of you walks out that door today, I’m done with this house!” The only response I got was the slam of the door and the sound of their laughter fading down the street. I collapsed on the couch, tears running down my face. Seven years of my life, all for nothing. Every day, I’d wake up early, cook, clean, take care of Carter, and do all the household chores. My workload wasn’t any less than Nathan’s. But now, neither Nathan nor Carter appreciated me. Well, if they think I’m so embarrassing, I’m done. I’ll spend my time and money on self-care and clothes. Let’s see who misses me then. After making up my mind, I tossed Nathan’s stuff into the guest room. There was no way I was sleeping next to that man for another minute. I called up Bianca and we made dinner plans. Nathan took Carter out for fried chicken, so I wasn’t going to hold back either. After dinner, Bianca and I hit Rivercrest Shopping Mall. I had years of missed self-care to make up for!
The newest skincare set? Bought. Trendy clothes and bags? Yes, please! Gym membership, spa package—got them both! Bianca watched me spend money like water, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Vivian, aren’t you worried Nathan’s going to lose it?” I admired my purchases with satisfaction. “Who cares? I’m spending my own savings. He has no say in it!” I posted a picture of my shopping haul on Instagram to celebrate this new chapter of my life, but then I saw that Nathan had already posted something first. He’d tagged me, too, with a snarky caption: “Took Carter out for fried chicken. He says I’m his favorite!” In the picture, they were smiling, faces pressed together, in front of a table full of junk food. Typical. I rolled my eyes.
Every time I tried to discipline Carter, Nathan would play the good guy. So, despite me spending every day taking care of Carter, it was Nathan who Carter adored. I gave the post a sarcastic like and went to grab drinks with Bianca. We spent the evening mingling with some charming guys who kept calling us “ladies” in that flirtatious tone that made me feel young again. Dancing in the club released all the stress I’d built up during the day. Carter might still be young and need guidance, but as his mom, I couldn’t just abandon him. I’d have to rethink how I raised him. When I got home at 11 p.m., I was ready to make some changes in our dynamic. But instead of being in bed, the house was still brightly lit. Carter was up, playing with his toys in the living room, way past his bedtime. I always made sure he was asleep by 8 p.m. for school the next day, but here it was, 11 o’clock, and he was acting like it was the middle of the day! Furious, I roared, “Carter Summers! Do you have any idea what time it is? You’ve got school tomorrow!” Normally, Carter would have jumped into bed the moment I raised my voice, but tonight he actually had the nerve to shout back. “You’re the one who doesn’t keep your promises! Why do I have to listen to you? You just sit around at home all day, living off Dad’s money. You’re pathetic!” I stood there, stunned. This was the same child I’d devoted seven years of my life to, and now he was lashing out at me like this? The first time he’d said something hurtful, I thought it was just his age. But now, he was doing it on purpose. He meant every word. Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe I had given up my career, everything, for this ungrateful child. I stormed over and yanked him off the floor. “Say that again! Who taught you to speak to me like that? WHO?!” My voice was shaking with despair. Carter glared at me with nothing but hate in his eyes. I shivered. He started sobbing, but his words stayed harsh. “You don’t do anything! My friends’ moms aren’t like you!” As he screamed, he kicked and punched at me, putting every ounce of strength into each blow. At that moment, I realized—he truly despised me. Nathan, finally noticing the chaos, stormed into the room and shoved me aside. “Vivian, are you out of your mind? Look at what you’re doing to him! He’s terrified!” He turned to Carter, “Don’t just stand there. Wash Carter’s clothes, pick up his toys, and get him to bed.” Both Nathan and Carter acted like they had every right to boss me around. I stood up, grabbed the dirty laundry, and threw it right in their faces. “I told you earlier—if you walked out that door, I was done. So, whoever wants to deal with this, go ahead!” Carter froze, unsure of what to do. I slapped him hard across the face. “You don’t want me to take care of you? Fine. From now on, you’re not my son!” Carter burst into uncontrollable tears. Ignoring him, I kicked a toy out of the way and walked toward my bedroom, leaving Nathan and Carter behind, too stunned to react. From that moment on, I swore I’d never do another thing for either of them. Not one. And with that decision, I felt lighter. After a long hot shower, I finally relaxed in bed. Just as I was drifting off, Nathan stormed into the room, eyes blazing with anger. “What the hell is wrong with you today? Is this because Bianca’s been egging you on again? How many times have I told you that woman is no good! Those fancy things you bought are probably her influence too! Return them all tomorrow!”
I was on the verge of sleep, but his rant brought me fully awake. He wanted a fight? Fine, I’d give him one. “I’m spending my own money. I can buy whatever I want. Who do you think you are to control me? Bianca’s got real men in her life—men you could never measure up to. And now you’re jealous? Pathetic.” Nathan’s face twisted with anger. I knew exactly what to say to hit him where it hurt. As his wife, I knew him better than anyone. He’d always been envious of Bianca’s success, trying to cozy up to her crowd, but they didn’t want anything to do with him. “You’re insane,” Nathan spat. “Sleep it off, you’re clearly out of your mind.” He stormed out of the room. I laughed to myself. He probably thought his silent treatment would terrify me. Little did he know, I was relishing the freedom of being alone. The next morning, I was woken up by Carter’s cries. When I checked the clock, it was already 8 a.m. Well, well, someone’s late. I stretched luxuriously in bed, savoring the fact that I didn’t have to rush out of bed to make breakfast for anyone. Carter had tripped over his toys and split his forehead open. He lay on the floor, clutching his head, wailing, expecting someone to come to his rescue. Nathan came stumbling out of the master bedroom, looking disheveled and clearly panicked by the scene. Carter ran into his arms, bawling, “Dad, I’m late! I’m going to lose points for being late!” Nathan was just as unprepared, having clearly just woken up himself. He never thought I’d actually stop taking care of Carter. Seeing me standing there watching the scene, Nathan snapped. “Why are you just standing there?! Go grab a band-aid! Can’t you see Carter’s hurt?” I yawned and glanced at them. “Oh, he’s got a scar now? Too bad. Guess it’s gonna leave a mark.” 7 Carter was always so conscious of his appearance, and now with a gash on his forehead, he was crying like the world had ended. Nathan saw I wasn’t going to help, so he started looking for the band-aids himself. After practically tearing the house apart, he still couldn’t find one. Frustrated and red-faced, he shouted, “Where the hell are the band-aids? You hid them, didn’t you?” I rolled my eyes. “If they’re right in front of you and you can’t see them, that’s on you. Don’t go blaming me because you’re blind.” Nathan was furious, looking like he might charge at me. But he quickly realized now wasn’t the time because Carter was really late for school. Carter attended Maplewood Academy, a private school where the other kids were from well-off families, all used to following the rules. Being late was practically unheard of. To make matters worse, Lily Whitman—the girl Carter liked—was the class’s discipline monitor. If he was late, she’d surely look down on him. Nathan hurriedly dressed Carter, who stood there looking helpless. “Where are my clothes?” Nathan asked. I barely glanced at him. Before, I’d always have freshly washed and ironed clothes neatly laid out on the sofa for him. But now, remembering all those times I tried to be the “perfect wife” made me want to slap myself. “They’re on my face,” I said sarcastically, as I turned on the TV and started my morning yoga. Nathan shot me a death glare, grabbed some mismatched clothes from wherever he could find them, and with his hair a mess, dragged Carter out the door. Neither of them had eaten breakfast, and Carter’s complaints about being hungry echoed down the hall as they left. Meanwhile, I leisurely ordered myself a deluxe breakfast delivery, completed my yoga session, and enjoyed my meal at a slow pace. Just as I finished, my phone started ringing. It was Ms. Valerie Harper, Carter’s teacher. I let the phone ring, then hung up. Carter wasn’t my problem anymore. Why should I care about his school issues? Ms. Harper was persistent though. After several missed calls, she sent a text. “Mrs. Summers, what is going on at your house today? Carter not only arrived late, but he didn’t wear his uniform. He looked filthy, like he hadn’t washed his face! And what’s more, he didn’t even do his homework! Is this how you raise your child? You need to come to school immediately!” I was tempted to ignore her, but knowing she wouldn’t let it go, I replied:
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