When I arrived at my pregnant sister Lily’s house, I found her husband, Mark, treating her like a servant. Nine months pregnant, Lily was exhausted, while Mark lazed around, playing video games. Seeing this, I confronted Mark, but he dismissed my concerns.
Determined to teach him a lesson, I proposed a bet: Mark would do all of Lily’s chores for a day while wearing a watermelon to simulate pregnancy. If he failed, he had to step up as a husband. Amused, Mark accepted.
The next day, I handed Mark the watermelon wrapped in plastic wrap. He struggled through chores, quickly realizing how tough it was. Vacuuming, laundry, and scrubbing floors left him exhausted. By evening, he was drenched in sweat, unable to continue.
“I give up,” Mark groaned, collapsing on the couch. “I’m so sorry, Lily. I had no clue.”
Tears of relief welled in Lily’s eyes. “It’s okay. I’m glad you finally understand.”
That night, Mark helped with chores for the first time. He cooked, cleaned, and even assembled the baby’s crib. Days later, during Lily’s labor, Mark was a pillar of support, his love evident as their baby girl was born.
As I left, Lily hugged me tightly. “Thank you. You saved our marriage.”
Seeing the transformation in Mark, I knew the lesson had worked. And if he ever forgot, I’d be back—with another fruit.
