No More Mr. Nice Guy

I just got back from the hospital. I hadn't even sat down yet when my wife, Evelyn, started rattling off a to-do list.

Why are you just standing there? Go mop the floor, it's sticky after days of neglect!

And the shoe rack, it's covered in dust!

Oh, and don't forget to scrub the toilet. No one's done it since you were hospitalized!

She didn't ask if my arm still hurt. She didn't ask if I was still dizzy.

I didn't move. I stood in the entryway, my arms crossed, surveying the absurd scene.

Before, I was the undisputed backbone of this family, tirelessly earning money and handling all the household chores. But this recent accident caused me to lose my memory. My mind had reverted to my carefree single days. Faced with my unfamiliar wife's bossy demands, my ungrateful son's disrespect, and my materialistic mother-in-law's constant meddling, I decided I was done.

...

"Mark, did you hear me?" Evelyn's brows furrowed when I remained still.

I took off my jacket, hung it on the rack, then leaned back on the sofa, hands clasped behind my head. "I heard you, but I'm not doing it. I just got back from the hospital; I deserve at least a few days to rest!"

"Besides, I've been in the hospital these past few days. The grime on the floor, the dust on the shoe rack, the stains in the toilet none of that has anything to do with me. Whoever made the mess can clean it!"

The living room fell into an eerie silence. Evelyn's face flushed crimson at a visible rate. She puffed out her cheeks in anger. "Mark, say that again?"

I wasn't intimidated. I merely glanced at her. "What, do you need me to write it down? Or perhaps we can create a family chat group, and I'll post it there, tagging everyone."

"You" Evelyn stormed over to me, her finger practically jabbing my nose. "You dare to speak to me like that? Fine, absolutely fine. Your allowance for this month is gone, not a single penny!"

"Whatever!" I walked past her, heading straight for the study.

At twenty-five, I earned twelve thousand dollars a month and spent my money as I pleased. At thirty-five, I needed to ask my wife for an allowance.

This world truly has a sense of humor.

"Mark, you stop right there!" I closed the door, ignoring the screams behind me.

The guest room desk was piled with documents: mortgage statements, car loan details, my son's tutoring fees, and so on. On top was a calendar. Yesterday's date was circled in red, with a note beside it: "Tenth Wedding Anniversary."

I picked up a pen and drew a large 'X' through the red circle.

The next morning, at six-thirty, just as dawn was breaking. The study door was knocked onno, pounded on.

"Mark, what time is it? Aren't you getting up for work?!" My mother-in-law's voice boomed from outside the door.

I yawned as I opened the door, a nagging thought in my head. "Has the sun risen in the west? My mother-in-law is actually calling me to get up early out of kindness."

In the living room, my mother-in-law was already fully dressed. A dark green embroidered dress, pearl earrings that dazzled the eye, and a face thickly powdered as if whitewashed.

"What are you dawdling for? Hurry up, you'll be late!" She clutched her small handbag, impatiently urging me on.

Ten minutes later, I was showered and ready, heading to the underground parking garage for my car.

As soon as I settled into the driver's seat, the passenger door clicked open, and a heavy scent of perfume wafted in. My mother-in-law had already efficiently buckled her seatbelt.

"First, take me to East Lake Park. Aunt Sharon and her friends brought their new sound system today, and I need to get there early to claim a spot."

It was only then that I realized why she'd woken me up so early. I gripped the steering wheel, turning my head to her in exasperation. "I'm going to work. The park is in the opposite direction."

"I know. Don't you always drop me off before you go to work?" My mother-in-law applied lipstick in the sun visor mirror, her tone utterly matter-of-fact.

Getting up early for work and then having to be my mother-in-law's chauffeur? The thirty-five-year-old me actually tolerated this? I scoffed inwardly, but on the surface, I remained calm.

"Could you please get out for a moment? I'll adjust the passenger seat for you; it'll be more comfortable."

As I spoke, I unbuckled her seatbelt. My mother-in-law paused, grumbling, "Always making a fuss," but she still got out of the car.

The moment her feet touched the ground outside the car door, I slammed it shut. I turned the key, and the engine rumbled to life.

"Hey! What are you doing" My mother-in-law realized something was wrong and frantically pounded on the car window.

I pressed the accelerator, driving away. Leaving my furious mother-in-law behind.

At six in the evening, I got home from work. I had just set down my briefcase and sat on the sofa, hoping to catch my breath.

"Bang!"

A heavy backpack practically grazed my nose before slamming onto the coffee table. The glass top shook, groaning under the impact.

I looked up to see my son, Chris, standing in front of me, one hand in his pocket, the other outstretched. "Old Man, give me money." His tone was rude and arrogant.

I narrowed my eyes, masking the anger within, and forced a smile. "How much do you want? What for?"

Chris's voice was loud and self-righteous. "Five hundred bucks! Ben in my class has this super-cool transforming robot, it's awesome, and I want it too, the golden collector's edition!"

"Don't you have enough toys at home? You already have transforming robots. You've barely played with that new 'Bumblebee' I bought you, have you?"

"That's outdated!" His voice suddenly escalated, with the sharp edge unique to children. "Are you going to give it to me or not? If not, fine, I'll go ask Mom and Grandma!"

He started to turn, as if certain I would give in, or at least call him back to bargain.

"Stop right there," I said loudly.

He froze, turning half his face toward me, a hint of a triumphant smirk on his lips.

"I'll say it again: no." My voice turned cold, with an unmistakable finality. "First, you don't have a valid reason for that five hundred dollars. Second, even if you did, you should earn it by showing good behavior, not just demanding it. Thirdwhat did you just call me? 'Old Man'? Who taught you that?"

Chris was stunned.

"Why won't you give it to me?!" He violently kicked over the dining chair next to him. "My classmates have it, but I don't! Are you trying to embarrass me at school, you cheapskate, you loser!"

I looked at the overturned dining chair, then at his angry, distorted young face. He was only eight, yet he had already learned to define self-worth through material comparison and vent frustration by insulting his own family. It seemed I needed to exercise my paternal rights properly.

"You little brat, it seems reasoning with you is useless." I slowly rolled up my shirt sleeves, approaching him.

"What are you going to do?" He took half a step back, a flicker of panic in his eyes, but his tone was still defiant. "You wouldn't dare hit me, would you? I'll tell Mom! I'll tell Grandma!"

"Go ahead and tell them, but before that"

My movements were faster than I expected. Before he could react, I had already grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and tripped him. He yelped as he lost his balance and was firmly pinned to the floor.

"Let go of me, you jerk, let go!" He struggled desperately, his face red and neck bulging, tears and snot streaming down, but more than anything, there was anger and disbelief. I held him down with one knee on his back, controlling my strength to avoid injuring him, but not allowing him to break free.

"Listen, I'm not giving you the money. If I hear you curse again, next time I won't be so polite. Also, if you want something, figure out how to earn it yourself. The world doesn't owe you anything, and I certainly don't!"

Just then, a shriek rang out. "Let go of my grandson!"

The scream almost pierced my eardrums. The front door had opened unnoticed, and my mother-in-law and Evelyn stood there. My mother-in-law rushed forward first, trying like a madwoman to push me away. Evelyn, on the other hand, was pale, her lips trembling, her finger shaking as she pointed at me. "Mark, you... are you even human? What are you doing to our child?"

I clapped my hands, stood up, and pulled out a tissue to wipe them. "Didn't you see? I'm disciplining him."

Chris immediately scrambled behind my mother-in-law, crying even louder, adding fuel to the fire with every sob. "He said he was going to kill me... I just wanted a toy, and he wouldn't buy it for me, and he hit me..."

Evelyn's chest heaved violently. "Discipline? Is that how you discipline a child? You're barbaric, brutal! What era are we in? Experts say it should be 'happy education,' 'love and freedom'! Look what you've done to the child!"

My mother-in-law hugged the sobbing Chris tightly, cooing endearments, while shooting me a venomous, resentful glare. "How dare you! How could you lay a hand on him? What's wrong with a child wanting a toy? It's only five hundred bucks! Isn't a happy childhood more important than anything else? Our Chris is so smart, he just wants a new toy, is that so much to ask?!"

"Mark, you've disappointed me so much. You're not like a father at all. Get out, get out now and live somewhere else. I don't want to see you!" Evelyn's voice was choked with tears, but mostly filled with hysterical accusations.

The living room was filled with women's curses and the child's wails. Strangely, as I stood there, my heart was utterly calm. I even felt a slight urge to laugh.

"Fine, I couldn't ask for anything more!"

I pulled a suitcase from the wardrobe, casually threw in a few changes of clothes, and left without looking back.

Just a few days had been enough to reveal the full picture of this family. My wife, Evelyn, was a classic self-serving individual, viewing my contributions as her rightful due. My son, Chris, a seven-year-old brat, was spoiled rotten; "brat" was practically a compliment. My mother-in-law, with her unique talents, managed to enjoy the convenience of my financial support while simultaneously trampling my dignity with the most cutting remarks.

This so-called "family" was essentially an exploitative system disguised as kinship, and I was the core component, forbidden to have my own will. I had only experienced a few days of this, and it already felt utterly absurd. I couldn't imagine how the "me" of thirty-five had endured this for seven whole years, day after day. Even a Ninja Turtle would feel inferior.

I picked up my phone and sent a message to my college friend, Mike. Soon, my phone vibrated. Mike replied, "The room's ready for you, come over anytime. Plenty of beer." I replied with three words: "On my way."

At Mike's place, I woke up naturally every day, went out to find good food after work, played a few games with him in the evenings, and went camping and hiking in the mountains on weekends. Carefree and free, this was what life should be.

However, five days later, my peaceful and comfortable life was interrupted. Evelyn called me. This was the first time she had initiated contact since I moved out. I let it ring for over ten seconds before slowly picking up.

"Mark! Get to City Hospital Two now!" Her voice was sharp and urgent, the background noisy. "Mom was attacked! She's in the emergency room!"

Despite my reluctance, I rushed to the hospital immediately. In the emergency room, my mother-in-law sat on the hospital bed, sighing dramatically. "Oh, my arm... it hurts... it must be broken..."

Evelyn stood beside her, her face ashen, harshly scolding a seemingly honest middle-aged couple. "What's wrong with you two? How dare you assault an elderly person, my mother? If anything serious happens to her, you'll spend the rest of your lives in prison."

The man of the couple looked distressed, and the woman tried to explain but was drowned out by Evelyn's loud voice. I examined my mother-in-law. Although her hair was disheveled and her clothes were dusty, her voice was loud, and she seemed full of vigor. Aside from some redness on the back of her hand, there were no signs of serious injury.

The doctor who arrived shortly after confirmed my assessment. "The examination results are in. It's just a superficial scratch, not even a minor injury."