Chapter 1 · My Husband Called Me A Parasite

Chapter 1

My husband said I was the family parasite.

We had been married for five years. I quit my job to raise our child.

He created a "Housewife Wage System" for me. $200 a month for living expenses.

I had to cook, do laundry, take care of our child, clean the house, and look after his parents.

I also had to write a daily work report, just like an intern at his company.

If I failed the report, money deducted.

If the meal didn't taste good, money deducted.

Our child cried and disturbed his coding? Money deducted.

Once, I had a 103°F fever. He frowned and said, "You can't afford to get sick. Do you know how much a nanny costs?"

That day, he was at a company team-building event. I had a sudden appendicitis attack.

I called him over a dozen times. He didn't pick up once.

In the end, I was bleeding heavily in the hospital hallway, clutching my empty wallet, dying.

In my fading moments, I heard him come home, reeking of alcohol.

"Why so many calls so late? I was discussing work. Can't you be less clingy? You're like a parasite," he snapped.

Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day he announced the implementation of his "wage system."

*****

"Emily, family meeting." David Carter, my husband, placed his laptop on the coffee table, his face serious.

My mother-in-law and father-in-law sat on the sofa, looking at me with scrutinizing eyes.

Holding our three-year-old daughter, I already knew what was coming.

I had lived through this scene before.

David opened an Excel spreadsheet and projected it onto the TV.

A dense mass of data made my head spin.

"This is the family management optimization plan I spent three days working on," he said.

His tone was just like when he gave project reports at work. "Emily, you've been at home for five years since you quit. I've calculated that the household expenses are getting larger, but the output is invisible.

"As a competent programmer, I believe the family also needs meticulous management."

My mother-in-law immediately chimed in, "Yes, yes. David is right. A woman at home needs rules."

My father-in-law nodded. "Otherwise, she just lounges around all day, money flowing out like water."

I stared at the TV screen.

The title of the spreadsheet read clearly, [Housewife Performance Management System (Trial Version)].

David cleared his throat and began reading. "Based on market research, the average salary for domestic service personnel is $1,000-$2,000 per month.

"However, considering you have no professional training or relevant certifications, I've set your base salary at $200 per month."

My hands trembled, almost dropping my daughter, Sophie.

I couldn't believe what I just heard.

"Additionally," David continued, "you need to submit a daily work report, recording the housework completed each day and the time taken. I will assess the quality of completion.

"Failed assessment results in deducted performance pay.

"For example, poorly cooked meals, deduct $20. Floor not mopped cleanly, deduct $10. Clothes not folded neatly, deduct $6.

"If Sophie cries and affects my work-from-home, deduct $30."

My mother-in-law clapped her hands. "This is a great idea. It's about time she is managed properly. Emily, don't be ungrateful. My son supporting you is already plenty good enough."

My father-in-law also laughed. "Women these days, lying around at home and still expecting money? There's no free lunch in the world."

I looked at David, my throat tight. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," he pushed his glasses up, looking utterly self-righteous.

"The new interns at the company only get $1,000 a month, and they have to write daily reports, weekly reports, and face assessments. You're at home, relaxed and free. $200 isn't little," he said.

I took a deep breath.

In my previous life, I chose to endure.

I thought if I bore it, it would pass.

I thought he was just temporarily confused.

But reality just slapped me in the face.

Five years of swallowing my pride, only to end up bleeding to death in a hospital hallway.

This time, I won't endure anymore.

I looked at him calmly. "I refuse."

The living room fell silent instantly.

David was stunned, as if he hadn't heard correctly. "What did you say?"

"I said, I refuse your bullshit system," I retorted.

I put Sophie down and stood up.

My mother-in-law immediately jumped up. "Emily, how dare you speak like that! Getting too big for your boots, aren't you?"

I didn't even glance at her, staring straight at David. "If you think I do nothing at home, fine. Starting today, we share the housework, we share the expenses.

"Or, we get a divorce."

As the last two words left my mouth, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

David's face instantly turned red. "Emily, are you crazy?!"

"I'm not crazy. You are," I shot back.

I sneered, "David, you make $10,000 a month and think you're so great, right?

"Then let me ask you, how much is a live-in nanny's monthly salary for 24/7 child care?

"Three meals a day, how much for a private chef per month?

"House cleaning, how much for a housekeeper per month?

"Taking care of your parents, how much for a home care aide per month?"

I stepped closer to him. "Have you calculated it? Have you done the math?

"Nanny, $2,500. Private chef, $4,000. Housekeeper, $2,000. Home care aide, $2,000. Total, $10,500 a month.

"And you give me $200? What are you treating me as?"

David's face turned pale, then red.

My mother-in-law shrieked from the side. "How can you be so calculating? We are family."

I turned to her and smiled. "Family? Then what was your son just doing with his Excel spreadsheet?

"He can calculate, but I can't?"

My father-in-law was furious. "This woman is getting more and more outrageous."

I couldn't be bothered with them.

I picked up my bag and headed for the door.

David chased after me and grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?"

"To my parents' house." I shook off his hand. "Aren't you worried I'm freeloading at home? Then I'll leave.

"From now on, you can cook, do laundry, take care of Sophie, and serve your parents yourself.

"Experience what it's like to be a parasite."

After saying that, I walked out without looking back.

Behind me came my mother-in-law's curses and David's flustered shouts.

But I didn't want to hear a single word.

I sat downstairs for a long time.

I didn't actually go to my parents' house.

My mom passed away three years ago, and my dad moved away after remarrying.

I just needed some quiet.

My phone kept vibrating.

David sent over a dozen messages.

[Honey, don't be angry, let's talk properly.] [Sophie won't stop crying, please come back.] [My mom was a bit harsh, but she means well.] [What do you actually want?]

I didn't even look, turning it off directly.

Chapter 1

My husband said I was the family parasite.

We had been married for five years. I quit my job to raise our child.

He created a "Housewife Wage System" for me. $200 a month for living expenses.

I had to cook, do laundry, take care of our child, clean the house, and look after his parents.

I also had to write a daily work report, just like an intern at his company.

If I failed the report, money deducted.

If the meal didn't taste good, money deducted.

Our child cried and disturbed his coding? Money deducted.

Once, I had a 103°F fever. He frowned and said, "You can't afford to get sick. Do you know how much a nanny costs?"

That day, he was at a company team-building event. I had a sudden appendicitis attack.

I called him over a dozen times. He didn't pick up once.

In the end, I was bleeding heavily in the hospital hallway, clutching my empty wallet, dying.

In my fading moments, I heard him come home, reeking of alcohol.

"Why so many calls so late? I was discussing work. Can't you be less clingy? You're like a parasite," he snapped.

Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day he announced the implementation of his "wage system."

*****

"Emily, family meeting." David Carter, my husband, placed his laptop on the coffee table, his face serious.

My mother-in-law and father-in-law sat on the sofa, looking at me with scrutinizing eyes.

Holding our three-year-old daughter, I already knew what was coming.

I had lived through this scene before.

David opened an Excel spreadsheet and projected it onto the TV.

A dense mass of data made my head spin.

"This is the family management optimization plan I spent three days working on," he said.

"As a competent programmer, I believe the family also needs meticulous management."

My mother-in-law immediately chimed in, "Yes, yes. David is right. A woman at home needs rules."

My father-in-law nodded. "Otherwise, she just lounges around all day, money flowing out like water."

I stared at the TV screen.

The title of the spreadsheet read clearly, [Housewife Performance Management System (Trial Version)].

David cleared his throat and began reading. "Based on market research, the average salary for domestic service personnel is $1,000-$2,000 per month.

"However, considering you have no professional training or relevant certifications, I've set your base salary at $200 per month."

My hands trembled, almost dropping my daughter, Sophie.

I couldn't believe what I just heard.

"Additionally," David continued, "you need to submit a daily work report, recording the housework completed each day and the time taken. I will assess the quality of completion.

"Failed assessment results in deducted performance pay.

"For example, poorly cooked meals, deduct $20. Floor not mopped cleanly, deduct $10. Clothes not folded neatly, deduct $6.

"If Sophie cries and affects my work-from-home, deduct $30."

My mother-in-law clapped her hands. "This is a great idea. It's about time she is managed properly. Emily, don't be ungrateful. My son supporting you is already plenty good enough."

My father-in-law also laughed. "Women these days, lying around at home and still expecting money? There's no free lunch in the world."

I looked at David, my throat tight. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," he pushed his glasses up, looking utterly self-righteous.

"The new interns at the company only get $1,000 a month, and they have to write daily reports, weekly reports, and face assessments. You're at home, relaxed and free. $200 isn't little," he said.

I took a deep breath.

In my previous life, I chose to endure.

I thought if I bore it, it would pass.

I thought he was just temporarily confused.

But reality just slapped me in the face.

Five years of swallowing my pride, only to end up bleeding to death in a hospital hallway.

This time, I won't endure anymore.

I looked at him calmly. "I refuse."

The living room fell silent instantly.

David was stunned, as if he hadn't heard correctly. "What did you say?"

"I said, I refuse your bullshit system," I retorted.

I put Sophie down and stood up.

My mother-in-law immediately jumped up. "Emily, how dare you speak like that! Getting too big for your boots, aren't you?"

I didn't even glance at her, staring straight at David. "If you think I do nothing at home, fine. Starting today, we share the housework, we share the expenses.

"Or, we get a divorce."

As the last two words left my mouth, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

David's face instantly turned red. "Emily, are you crazy?!"

"I'm not crazy. You are," I shot back.

I sneered, "David, you make $10,000 a month and think you're so great, right?

"Then let me ask you, how much is a live-in nanny's monthly salary for 24/7 child care?

"Three meals a day, how much for a private chef per month?

"House cleaning, how much for a housekeeper per month?

"Taking care of your parents, how much for a home care aide per month?"

I stepped closer to him. "Have you calculated it? Have you done the math?

"Nanny, $2,500. Private chef, $4,000. Housekeeper, $2,000. Home care aide, $2,000. Total, $10,500 a month.

"And you give me $200? What are you treating me as?"

David's face turned pale, then red.

My mother-in-law shrieked from the side. "How can you be so calculating? We are family."

I turned to her and smiled. "Family? Then what was your son just doing with his Excel spreadsheet?

"He can calculate, but I can't?"

My father-in-law was furious. "This woman is getting more and more outrageous."

I couldn't be bothered with them.

I picked up my bag and headed for the door.

David chased after me and grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?"

"To my parents' house." I shook off his hand. "Aren't you worried I'm freeloading at home? Then I'll leave.

"From now on, you can cook, do laundry, take care of Sophie, and serve your parents yourself.

"Experience what it's like to be a parasite."

After saying that, I walked out without looking back.

Behind me came my mother-in-law's curses and David's flustered shouts.

But I didn't want to hear a single word.

I sat downstairs for a long time.

I didn't actually go to my parents' house.

My mom passed away three years ago, and my dad moved away after remarrying.

I just needed some quiet.

My phone kept vibrating.

David sent over a dozen messages.

[Honey, don't be angry, let's talk properly.] [Sophie won't stop crying, please come back.] [My mom was a bit harsh, but she means well.] [What do you actually want?]

I didn't even look, turning it off directly.