In our house, our workaholic Dad was king and Mom his servant. We kids were practically ghosts. Until the day we decided to open Dad’s eyes with a risky plan, knowing little how it would end up changing everything.
Ever felt like you were invisible in your own home? Like the person you’re supposed to look up to doesn’t even know you exist? That’s been my life for as long as I can remember. I’m Irene, and this is the story of how my brother and I had to teach our Dad a lesson he’d never forget…
An upset teenage girl sitting down | Source: Pexels
It was a typical Tuesday evening. I sat at the kitchen table, math homework spread out in front of me, while my younger brother Josh sprawled on the living room floor, nose buried in a comic book. The clock on the wall ticked steadily towards 6 p.m.
Right on cue, the front door swung open. Dad trudged in, briefcase bag in hand, tie already loosened. He barely glanced our way as he called out, “Hey.”
I looked up, hoping for… something. A smile? A “How was your day?” But nope. Nothing.
Instead, he bellowed, “Mariam! Where’s my dinner?”
A man holding a briefcase bag | Source: Pexels
Mom appeared from the laundry room, looking frazzled. “Coming, Carl. Just finishing up the laundry.”
Dad grunted, kicking off his shoes. “Well, hurry up. I’m starving.”
I watched as he made a beeline for the PlayStation, plopping down on the couch without so much as a “How are you?” to any of us. The familiar sounds of his racing game filled the room, drowning out everything else.
A man holding a gaming console | Source: Pexels
Josh caught my eye from across the room. He rolled his eyes, and I nodded in silent agreement. This was our normal, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
Mom rushed past, arms full of laundry. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Carl.”
No response. Just the screeching of virtual tires and Dad’s occasional muttered curse.
I sighed, turning back to my homework. Another night in the Thompson household, where Dad was king, Mom was the servant, and Josh and I, well, we might as well have been furniture.
A woman holding laundry basket | Source: Pexels
“Earth to Irene,” Josh’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “You gonna help me with my English homework or what?”
I forced a smile. “Yeah, sure. Let me finish this problem first.”
As I bent over my textbook, I couldn’t help but wonder: How long could we go on like this?
The next evening, things reached a boiling point. I was setting the table for dinner when I heard Dad’s voice from the living room.
“Mariam! Why are these magazines so dusty? Don’t you ever clean around here?”
A frustrated girl sitting down | Source: Pexels
I peeked around the corner to see Dad holding up one of his car magazines, a scowl on his face. Mom stood nearby, looking exhausted and defeated.
“I’m sorry, Carl. I’ve been so busy with work and—”
“Busy?” Dad scoffed, rubbing his chin. “I work too, you know. But I expect to come home to a clean house. Is that too much to ask?”
My blood boiled. Mom worked just as hard as Dad, if not harder. She had a full-time job, plus she did all the cooking, cleaning, and taking care of us kids. And what did Dad do? Work, eat, play video games, sleep. Rinse and repeat.
A man rubbing his chin | Source: Freepik
“That’s it,” I muttered under my breath. I stormed into the kitchen where Josh was grabbing a snack.
“We need to do something,” I said, my voice low.
Josh raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“About Dad. This can’t go on. He treats Mom like dirt, and us like we don’t even exist. We need to show him what it feels like.”
A slow grin spread across Josh’s face. “I’m listening.”
An annoyed teenage boy holding his head | Source: Pexels
We huddled together, whispering furiously as we hatched our plan. It was time to give Dad a taste of his own medicine.
“You really think this’ll work?” Josh asked as we finalized the details.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But we have to try something. For Mom’s sake, if nothing else.”
Josh nodded solemnly. “Alright, let’s do this.”
A teenage girl looking to her side | Source: Pexels
As we separated, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of excitement and nervousness. Would this work? Or would it just make things worse?
The next day, Josh and I put our plan into motion. We convinced Mom to take a spa day, assuring her we’d take care of things at home. She was hesitant at first, but eventually agreed, clearly in need of a break.
As 6 p.m. approached, Josh and I got ready. We raided Dad’s closet, pulling out two of his shirts and ties. The clothes hung off our smaller frames, but that was part of the effect we were going for.
Rear view of a teenage girl wearing a white shirt | Source: Midjourney
“Ready?” I asked Josh as we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway.
He nodded, straightening his too-large tie. “Let’s do this.”
We took our positions—Josh on the couch with a magazine and me standing near the door. My heart was pounding as we heard Dad’s key in the lock.
The door swung open, and Dad stepped in. He froze, taking in the sight of us in his clothes.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice. “Why are you guys wearing my shirt?”
A confused man holding his chin | Source: Freepik
I fixed him with a stern look. “I need my dinner,” I said, mimicking his usual demanding tone.
Josh didn’t even look up from his magazine. “And don’t forget to clean up the PlayStation when you’re done.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait a minute. What are you two doing?”
I waved him off dismissively. “Hey, I’m busy. Don’t bother me with questions.”
“Yeah,” Josh chimed in, “go ask Mom. Isn’t that what you usually do?”
A boy sitting on the couch and holding a gaming console | Source: Pexels
Dad stood there, mouth agape, as we continued our act. I grabbed the PlayStation controller and started playing, while Josh flipped through the magazine with exaggerated disinterest.
“Seriously, what is this?” Dad’s voice was a mix of frustration and bewilderment.
I looked up, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sorry, were you talking to me? I’m kind of in the middle of something important here.”
“Just like you always are,” Josh added.
A teenage girl sitting on a chair | Source: Pexels
A heavy silence fell over the room. I could almost see the gears turning in Dad’s head as he watched us. Slowly, his expression changed from confusion to dawning realization.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost vulnerable. “Is this… is this how you see me?”
The moment of truth had arrived. I took a deep breath, dropping the act.
“Yes, Dad. This is exactly how you’ve been treating us and Mom. You’re always too busy for us, and you treat Mom like she’s just here to serve you.”
Close-up side shot of a shocked man’s eyes | Source: Midjourney
Josh joined in, his voice steady despite the emotion I could see in his eyes. “She works just as hard as you do, but she also has to take care of everything at home. And all you do is complain and demand things from her.”
Dad’s shoulders slumped as the weight of our words hit him. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the front door opened once more.
Mom walked in, looking more relaxed than I’d seen her in years. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her.
A surprised woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing between us and Dad.
Dad turned to her, and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “I… I think I’ve been a terrible husband and father,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how bad it was until now.”
Without another word, he walked into the kitchen. We all watched in stunned silence as he started pulling out pots and pans.
“Carl?” Mom called out, confusion evident in her voice. “What are you doing?”
A man in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
“Making dinner! Flatbread, anyone?!” came his reply. “Please, sit down. All of you.”
Josh and I exchanged a look of disbelief before joining Mom at the table. We sat in awkward silence as the sounds and smells of cooking filled the air.
Finally, Dad emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot. He set it down on the table and began serving us each a portion.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he worked. “For everything. I’ve been neglecting you all, and I see that now. I’ll do better, I promise.”
A man making pan-baked flatbread in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
As we began to eat, I couldn’t help but marvel at how different this felt. Dad was actually present, asking us about our day, listening to our responses. It was… nice. Weird, but nice.
“So,” Dad said, clearing his throat. “Tell me what I’ve missed. How’s school going for you two?”
Josh and I looked at each other, then back at Dad. Was this for real?
“It’s… fine,” I said cautiously. “I’ve got a big history test coming up next week.”
A family dinner | Source: Pexels
Dad nodded, actually seeming interested. “Maybe I could help you study?”
The offer took me by surprise. “Yeah,” I said, a small smile forming. “That’d be great.”
As we finished dinner, Dad looked at us with a smile, a real one, not the distracted half-smiles we were used to. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For showing me how I was acting. I needed that wake-up call.”
A cheerful man pointing his finger | Source: Freepik
I felt a warmth in my chest I hadn’t experienced in a long time. “We’re just glad you listened, Dad.”
Josh grinned mischievously. “And maybe now you’ll actually join us for some PlayStation?”
Dad laughed, a full, hearty laugh that I realized I’d missed hearing. “Deal. But first, let’s clean up together.”
A teenage girl smiling | Source: Pexels
As we all pitched in to clear the table and wash dishes, I couldn’t help but feel hopeful. This was just one night, and I knew things wouldn’t magically be perfect from here on out. But it was a start, a real one. And for the first time in years, we felt like a family again.
A woman watching a man washing dishes | Source: Pexels
Here’s another story: I chose to dishonor my Dad’s final wish by doing something that haunts me. But there is a heartbreaking reason behind it that still makes me cry.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
