THE EX-WIFE'S REGRET

Arthur Evans trudged into the house, his limbs aching from a long, grueling day.

He had spent hours scrubbing floors, dusting furniture, and taking on whatever cleaning tasks he could find, just to make ends meet.

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him like a boulder.

He barely had the energy to reach the sofa in the living room before his body gave in, sinking into the cushions.

Within seconds, sleep took over.

However, his rest was short-lived when a sudden weight on his head jolted him awake.

Something was draped over his body, covering his vision.

He tried to move, but the sensation of clothes cascading over him made it difficult. Before he could process what was happening, he heard a familiar voice, sharp and filled with disdain.

"You useless idiot! Lazy, good-for-nothing fool!"

It was Harriet, his mother-in-law.

Arthur struggled to remove the basket of clothes from his head, shaking off the clothes covering his body.

As his vision cleared, he saw Harriet standing over him, hands on her hips, her face twisted in fury.

"How dare you postpone the laundry? It was supposed to be done on Saturday, and now, here you are, sleeping like some king while dirty clothes pile up!" she snapped.

"You're nothing but a disgrace, Arthur! A burden on this family! Charles should never have brought you into our lives."

Arthur clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists as he pushed himself up.

He was used to this.

Harriet had never accepted him as part of the family.

She saw him as a stray dog that her father-in-law had foolishly taken in.

No matter how hard he worked, she always found a way to belittle him.

"Look at you! A grown man, living under our roof, eating our food, doing nothing but acting like a lazy fool! Is this what my father-in-law thought was a good match for my daughter?" Harriet continued, her voice rising.

"You think just because you do some cleaning jobs, you're contributing something meaningful? Let me tell you, Arthur, without this family, you'd be rotting on the streets!"

Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line.

He wanted to defend himself, to remind Harriet that he worked tirelessly to support himself and Isabelle, her daughter.

But he knew better. Arguing with her would only make things worse. Instead, he turned away and walked toward the laundry room, picking up the clothes she had dumped on him.

"That’s right! Do your job, you pathetic orphan!" Harriet spat before storming out of the room.

Arthur swallowed the bitterness in his throat.

He had been married to Isabelle for four years now.

He had juggled countless cleaning jobs, struggling to make enough to support her, despite the constant humiliation from her family.

He had married Isabelle because of Charles Lewis, her grandfather.

Arthur still remembered that fateful day, five years ago.

He had been returning from work, walking down his usual lonely path when he saw an old man being attacked by thugs.

Without hesitation, he had rushed in, fighting off the assailants and carrying the battered man to the nearest hospital.

That man was Charles Lewis.

Charles had never forgotten Arthur's kindness.

After recovering, he had insisted that a man like Arthur deserved a good life—and a good wife.

He had arranged for Arthur to marry one of his granddaughters as a way of repaying the debt of his life.

Arthur hadn’t expected love, but he had hoped for acceptance.

For a while, things had been tolerable.

But three years ago, Charles passed away, the only person who had truly valued Arthur.

After that, Harriet and the rest of the family treated him like an unwanted servant.

They saw him as a poor, wretched orphan who had been lucky to marry into their household.

Now, Arthur was nothing more than their errand boy.

As he busied himself with the laundry, lost in thought, the front door burst open.

A familiar voice rang out, loud and impatient.

"Where is Arthur?!"

Arthur tensed as Isabelle stormed into the house.

Dressed in an expensive outfit, her hair perfectly styled, she looked every bit the privileged woman she had been raised to be.

Her eyes scanned the room before locking onto him.

"There you are!" she snapped.

"Tell me you cleaned and arranged the hall for my party tomorrow!"

Arthur paused, his hands deep in soapy water.

He had forgotten about the hall. He had been too busy working extra hours, trying to earn enough to buy Isabelle a gift for her birthday.

Seeing his hesitation, Isabelle let out a frustrated sigh.

"You didn’t do it, did you?" she accused.

"Arthur, I can’t believe this! My birthday is tomorrow, and you expect me to waste money on hiring cleaners when I have an able-bodied man who should be handling it?"

Arthur lowered his gaze.

He had wanted to surprise her with a beautiful dress and a special gift. That was why he had taken up extra work over the weekend, missing his usual laundry day.

"I couldn’t manage both the laundry and the hall at the same time." Arthur explained.

Isabelle’s face twisted in anger.

"Are you kidding me?" she hissed. "So, you’re saying you can’t do both? You’re making me look like a fool, Arthur!"

Before Arthur could react, a sharp sting exploded across his cheek. Isabelle had slapped him.

"You're absolutely useless!" she snapped.

"Hurry up with the laundry and then clean the hall! What else do you even do in this house?"

Arthur clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay silent. His cheek burned, but the pain of her words cut deeper.

"Why are you even my husband?" Isabelle scoffed.

"You can’t even provide the basics! You don’t put food on the table, you can’t afford to buy me anything decent—not even a simple pair of panties! So tell me, why are we even married if all you do is run errands like a houseboy? And even then, you’re still falling short!"