My husband found out about my inheritance before I did and immediately quit his job. But he couldn’t even imagine the lesson I was going to teach him!

My husband found out about my inheritance before I did and immediately quit his job. He claimed that while I was on maternity leave, I was “resting” at his expense, and now it was time for him to rest at mine. But he couldn’t even imagine the lesson I was going to teach him!

After my grandmother’s death, I inherited a significant sum. For me it was a surprise, but not for my husband — his cousin worked at a law firm and had told him everything in advance.

One morning, while I was feeding our baby, he sprawled on the couch with a cup of coffee and smugly announced:
— “I quit. Now you’ll support us. I worked hard while you were on ‘vacation’ during maternity leave. Now it’s your turn.”

I froze. Vacation? Sleepless nights, a crying baby, and anxiety attacks he called rest?

Inside I was boiling, but outwardly I smiled and replied:
— “You’re right. Now it’s your turn to rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

But he had no idea what was waiting for him.

The next day I left him at home with the baby, telling him I had found a job, and… walked out.

Before leaving, I put a detailed schedule on the table:
07:30 — feeding.
09:00 — diaper change.
12:00 — cook and feed lunch.
14:00 — cleaning.
18:00 — bathing.
22:00 — bedtime.

Everything I used to do automatically now became his daily “rest.”

At first, he laughed and assured me that it would be “easy.” But after three days he looked like a zombie: constantly sleep-deprived, irritated, surrounded by piles of dirty dishes and the baby’s cries.

After a week he begged me to come back earlier. On the tenth day, exhausted to the limit, he finally broke down.

— “You were right… I was wrong,” he said quietly. “I didn’t understand how much energy the house and the baby take. You’ve done a thousand times more than me. I’m sorry. Tomorrow I’ll go back to work. And I promise: I’ll always help you.”

In that moment, I saw sincerity in his eyes. Sometimes, to make someone learn to appreciate, you have to let them feel it on their own skin.