When I arrived at my sister’s home, I expected to relax and catch up

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not to find her nine months pregnant and being treated like a household maid. What followed involved a watermelon, an outrageous bet, and a lesson her husband would never forget.


I had a work trip scheduled in the area and figured I’d spend a few nights with my sister, Rachel, before heading home. The moment she opened the door, I knew something was wrong. Her face was pale, her movements slow, and exhaustion clung to her like a second skin.


Her husband, Ethan, barely glanced up from the couch. He was deeply engrossed in his video game, shouting into a headset, oblivious to his wife dragging a basket of laundry behind her.


That evening, Ethan took one bite of the pasta Rachel had made and wrinkled his nose. “It’s cold,” he muttered before carrying the plate upstairs like a grumpy king returning to his tower.


Rachel simply sighed, then began clearing the table, loading the dishwasher, and folding a mountain of baby clothes. I helped, of course—but Ethan? He didn’t lift a finger.


The next morning, I had to speak up.


“Ethan,” I said over burnt toast, “Rachel’s due any day. Maybe pitch in a little?”


He shrugged. “She’s fine. It’s just what women do.”


I clenched my jaw, forcing a smile. “Really? I bet you couldn’t handle a single day doing what she does.”


He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”


“Absolutely,” I replied. “If you succeed, I’ll be your maid for life. But if you fail, you start pulling your weight—properly.”


He chuckled, shook my hand, and said, “Deal.”


What he didn’t know was that I had a plan. I hit the store and returned with the star of our performance: the largest, most awkward watermelon I could find. With Rachel’s help, we hollowed it out, wrapped the halves in plastic, and created a belly simulator.


The next morning, we strapped the watermelon around Ethan’s middle and handed him a chore list: dishes, laundry, vacuuming, errands, meal prep, bathroom scrubbing, and nursery painting.


He laughed—at first.


But when he... (continue reading in the 1st comment)

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