When my husband’s father, Vincent Todd, arrived at our home, he not only tried to sabotage my job but also laid down a hundred and one rules for me to follow. He insisted that everything should revolve around serving my husband and them and that I must obey every command from the men in the house without question. He believed that a woman’s place was not in the workforce but at home, her duty to be the perfect housewife. I once reached out to his wife, Amanda Todd, for help. She was a hypocrite, coaxing me to comply. “Megan, Vincent is right. No woman can work outside and neglect her household duties.” I confided in my husband, but he only shrugged it off, doing nothing to help. “Oh, honey, Dad’s intentions are all for the good of the family.” With Vincent’s increasing cruelty, Amanda’s encouragement, and my husband’s indifference, I fell into depression and confusion, which eventually led to a car accident that took my life. When I was given a second chance, I decided to be the “picture-perfect”, “obedient” woman. This time, I took the initiative to show Vincent my allegiance. “You’re absolutely right! A woman should stay at home, take care of you and Amanda, and be a loving wife to my husband!”
The world around me sharpened into focus, and just as I was beginning to shake off the suffocating grip of death, Vincent stood firmly in my way. “Megan, do you think we can’t get by without your paycheck? How many times have I told you to quit your job and focus on being a proper housewife? Why won’t you listen?” Vincent’s eyes blazed with anger as he blocked the doorway, his stubbornness evident. Amanda, standing beside me, was in tears, softly urging me to comply. “Megan… Vincent’s right. What kind of woman goes out to work and neglects her household duties?” It was only when I saw this familiar scene unfold before me that the reality hit me—I had been reborn. Even though my limbs still ached with lingering pain, I realized that being crushed by a truck was not just a nightmare; it had really happened. Since my husband’s surgery, Vincent and Amanda had moved in under the pretense of visiting their son. But to my dismay, they had been living with us for six long months. Despite my best efforts to care for them, Vincent constantly nitpicked my every move, even going so far as to create a set of absurd family rules. He declared that I wouldn’t be allowed to leave until I met his standards according to his ridiculous regulations. The rules he set were outrageous! Everything revolved around serving Vincent and Amanda. I had to obey every command from the men in the house, and all decisions—big or small—had to be approved by them first. He even insisted that, despite being married, I had to maintain a demure demeanor: no showing teeth when I smiled, no loud talking, always sitting up straight, dressing modestly, and taking on all household chores. Anytime I wanted to socialize, I had to report my plans in advance. At first, I resisted these inhumane demands, but each time I tried to discuss it with Vincent, he would get so worked up that he’d end up in the hospital with his old ailments flaring up. Before long, everyone blamed me for being ungrateful and disrespectful to my elders, claiming I was the reason Vincent and Amanda had to run to the hospital so often. So, I swallowed my pride, repeatedly lowering my standards to appease them. In my previous life, it was this very set of rules that had driven me to depression, leading me to take a walk one day, only to be struck by that truck. This time, I wouldn’t allow myself to repeat the same mistakes! Seeing me standing there in silence, Amanda grabbed my arm, pulling me back from my thoughts. “Megan, Vincent looks like he’s about to faint! His health is already fragile. Do you really want to go against him right now? Are you really going to make me beg you?” Her words sent a shiver through me, and I quickly steadied Amanda, who looked ready to collapse. I feigned a look of defeat, pretending to give in. “Amanda, I won’t go to the office anymore… I’ll quit! I’ll do it right now!” But when Vincent heard this, his expression didn’t soften. His piercing gaze searched mine through his glasses; suspicion etched on his face. “Are you really sure you want to quit?” I projected an air of submission as if I’d finally made this decision after a painful struggle. “Yes! Your words have made me reconsider, and they make perfect sense. You’re right! A woman should stay at home, devoted to taking care of you guys and being a good wife!”
I thought to myself, “What do you mean ‘quit your job’? Only a fool would actually do that!” Behind the scenes, I secretly requested a month off from my boss. But in front of Vincent, I staged a little performance with a friend posing as my boss. So, when the night came for my ‘resignation’, Vincent was quite pleased, and Amanda let out a sigh of relief. But my husband, Nick Todd, was anything but calm. “Vincent, Amanda, I can take care of myself at home while I recover. Why do you insist that Megan quit her job?!” Vincent’s expression hardened at Nick’s words. He crossed his arms over his slightly protruding beer belly, adopting that familiar lecturing tone that suggested he’d lived longer than I could imagine. “A woman’s place is at home, supporting her husband and raising children. And I’m not some old-fashioned tyrant. I haven’t forced her to leave you just because she can’t have kids. All I want is for her to stay home and take good care of you while also being a good girl to me and Amanda. I think we’ve made enough concessions as parents. Now you’re telling me she needs to work? Do you really think your income isn’t enough to support her?” Nick was left speechless by this retort. In my previous life, on the day Vincent had brought up my resignation, I had fought back fiercely, unwilling to give up my job just as I was about to get a promotion. That confrontation had sent Vincent into a heart attack, landing him in the hospital, and the entire family had blamed me for being an inconsiderate person. Back then, Nick’s first reaction had been to subtly blame me too. “Megan, my dad’s getting old. Why do you have to argue with him? Can’t you just listen to what he says?” So this time, I decided to play the obedient one. Ironically, Nick was furious with me behind closed doors. “How can you just say you’re quitting? You make a fortune every month! What are we going to do about all the bills for this family after you quit?!” His tone was incredulous, completely at odds with the ‘son who earns 40 to 50 thousand a month’ that Vincent bragged about as if they were two different people! The truth was I was the main breadwinner in our household. After graduation, Nick’s meager income from writing novels at home didn’t even cover the small change from my paycheck. But Nick had inherited his father’s sense of pride, flaunting his ‘accomplishments’ while never correcting Vincent and Amanda’s assumptions. Every time I sent money to Vincent and Amanda, who lived in a small town, it was always under Nick’s name, even though the funds came from my wallet. Over time, everyone believed Nick was doing exceptionally well, sending his parents a whopping 10 thousand a month! In a place where over ninety percent of young people didn’t even make that much in a month, it was no wonder that relatives and neighbors constantly praised them. “Oh, you’ve really hit the jackpot with such a successful son!” “Nick’s always been a good kid! He’s so filial; my son should take a page from his book!” “I remember when he was just a little kid! Look at him now! I’m so envious…” Nick loved the attention, and I never bothered to correct Vincent and Amanda. So, to this day, they had no idea that I was the real backbone of our family’s finances. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. When they finally realized that the son they were so proud of was actually a useless slacker and that the only substantial income in the family was the job they pressured me to quit, I could only imagine the look on Vincent and Amanda’s faces!
For the past couple of days, I had been feigning illness to avoid Vincent and Amanda, steering clear of any interaction with them. Thanks to Vincent’s self-righteous persona, he didn’t dare barge into my room to lecture me directly. However, that didn’t stop him from finding opportunities to stand at my door and spout off. “Nick, listen to me. We can’t coddle women these days! Back in Amanda’s day, she had a huge scar and still worked hard in the fields! How can Megan just sit in her room all day doing nothing?” Nick, anxious that his carefully crafted image of being wealthy was about to crumble, was busy pouring himself into his writing, hoping to bridge the financial gap. So even though he heard Vincent’s words, he didn’t have time to confront me. Vincent barked at Amanda, “What are you doing? Put that rag down! Don’t you realize how old you are? Those chores aren’t meant for you!” Amanda shot back, “Come on, old man! If we don’t clean, this door will gather dust! Megan’s sick, and we can’t just sit around doing nothing. Besides, I can still manage a little dusting here and there…” “Go ahead! Go on and tire yourself out! If you collapse, this family will fall apart, and then they’ll have no mother…” The two of them stood just outside my door, loudly ‘discussing’ their grievances. Even with earplugs stuffed in, I could hear every word clearly. I knew they were talking to me. Since they hadn’t been living here long, Vincent was too proud to reveal his true nature and lay down the law directly. As for their complaints about dust on the door? I had only been in my room for two days, not two years. Amanda pretended to defend me, but she was just as lethal as Vincent, always playing the victim while subtly twisting the knife. Days dragged on in this tedious manner, with Vincent becoming increasingly irritable, creating all sorts of noise, and Amanda occasionally crying just outside my door. Even Nick, usually wrapped up in his creative endeavors, started popping into my room more frequently to check on my health. I realized my sick act was wearing thin! But on the bright side, my self-imposed retreat was nearing its end. The next morning, as Vincent returned from his early morning workout, he saw me finally opening my door. The pent-up frustration from the past days spilled over, and he couldn’t help but throw a sarcastic remark my way. “Whoa! Who do we have here? Did you get lost on your way out?” Amanda quickly intervened, rushing to my side, “Now, now, old man, let’s not be too harsh. Megan, come on, it’s time to eat.” Once we all sat down at the table, Amanda put on a sincere yet apologetic expression and said to me, “I just got here, so I’m not sure what you like. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and I accidentally cut my hand while doing chores yesterday. Cooking is a bit tricky for me right now, so if it doesn’t taste great… please bear with me.” With that well-rehearsed speech, she effectively ignited a silent war at the table. Vincent’s face darkened immediately. “Do you know what people are saying about Nick getting such a great wife? She’s always locked up in her room, making us do all the dirty work. It’s like she thinks she’s the boss around here!” Nick, who prided himself on his image, couldn’t take it anymore. “Megan, what’s gotten into you lately? My mom works so hard taking care of this house, and you just sit there, not even cooking your own meals. And when she does cook for you, you still find something to complain about!” I moved slightly, and he misinterpreted it as reaching for a fork. “Don’t even think about eating! Are you really that clueless? Can’t you see my dad is upset? Go reflect on your behavior according to our family rules, and apologize to Mom properly. Otherwise, don’t think this is over between us!” Despite being prepared for this, their blatant disrespect still managed to amuse me. This whole family, living off the groceries I buy, wearing luxury clothes paid for with my salary, using items from the property that’s in my name, had the audacity to scold me, the owner, as if I was their subordinate. They were right about one thing: in the past two years, my constant giving in and indulgence had emboldened them, making them forget their place and treat me like an inferior.
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