On our wedding night, my husband threw a dish rag at me, claiming chores were mine.

On our wedding night, my husband threw a dish rag at me, claiming chores were mine. I smiled and nodded—but realized it wasn’t a mistake. It was his true self, and he had no idea.

On our wedding night, my husband Ethan threw a wet dishcloth straight at my face.
“Cooking and cleaning are your responsibility now,” he said from the kitchen doorway of the small ranch house we’d just returned to after our reception. His tie was loosened, the warmth gone from his expression. “Don’t think you’re getting a free ride here. You need to do your part.”