At first, I told myself it was fine. This is what families do, right? But slowly, the weight of it all began to wear me down. My Sundays stopped being days of joy. They became marathons of unpaid labor.
One evening, exhausted and resentful, I told my husband the truth.
His response landed like a slap.
“They got us the house. Is this your thank you?”
As if my time, my labor, my very exhaustion were a debt I owed for a gift I never asked for.
That was the moment something inside me shifted.
A New Tradition
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