Page 41 of His Vengeful Tradwife

It was frankly embarrassing as fuck. Instead of supporting Tallulah with her channel and her business, my ego had gotten in the way and I had been a sucker to fall for the short-lived pleasure of Amanda’s attention.

"Read from the worksheet," my mother ordered.

"Your wife's financial success is a positive thing." I groaned aloud. "Fuck, Mother, Iknowthis."

"Do you?" she snapped. "Then how did you delude yourself into thinking you were in love with that nasty unpleasant bitch?"

"She fed my ego," I said in despair, my head buried in my hands.

Looking back, I couldn't believe my stupidity. I had deluded myself into thinking Amanda was my soulmate because I had sneered at Tallulah's work. Her wildly successful tradwife channel meant she didn't need me anymore, and it was easier to just sneer at the ridiculousness of raising baby piglets and assume we had grown apart than it was to grapple with the blow to my ego.

Fucking embarrassing.

"It's not aboutmilking cows," Father said patiently. "The milking is a metaphor. It's a metaphor for Tallulah succeeding without your help, whenyouexpected to helphersucceed in art history with your money as a lawyer. That was the original plan, that was her dream when you first got together. But when she succeeded on herownat something different, you pouted. The cow's udders represent her strength, and the fresh milk represents the bountyshewas able to bestow on your family."

"All right," I groaned. "I get it. This is like torture."

"I can understand satiating yourpenileneeds elsewhere," Mother said as I cringed in my seat. "But I do not understand thinking this other woman was your soulmate. I remember when you MET Tallulah, at your fencing club. You called me the day you met her and declared you had found your soulmate and the only woman you could ever love. And then you have the absolute unmitigated gall to present this other rotten festering cabbage of a woman to me and tell mesheis your soulmate. And after all that effort I went to during labor."

"How sharper than a serpent's tooth," agreed my father, shaking his head dolefully, "Is an ungrateful child. First he gives us grandchildren who we love more than anything in the world, then he announces he is abandoning their mother."

"It wasn't about my penis!" I barked. "Amanda seemed to have more time for me. Tallulah never had any time to do fencing anymore. And I asked her to! So many times. She barelyever agreed to do it. Amanda said she was willing to learn. I should have just been more patient with Tallulah."

If I expected this to get even the tiniest smidgen of sympathy, I was very much mistaken.

"Imbecile!" my mother shrieked Frenchly, and she and my father began walloping me with rolled-up copies of How To Manage Big Emotions for Men.

"You think she has time for FENCING when she has three small children? Idiot!"

"But she had time for free-ranging chickens!" I protested.

"That's herjob," Father said. "She didn't buy a dozen baby piglets for pleasure, you know."

Well, shit. When they put it that way. . .

"I have been a colossal bastard," I said dully. "It was all my fault."

My parents both nodded their heads.

"If Tallulah ever gives you a second chance you should kiss the ground she walks on every day," Father said, "and I am talking down to the molecular level, like clumps of the soil underneath your tongue. You're lucky if she doesn't choose one of those beach volleyball players to be her new husband."

My gut burned with jealousy at the reminder of the four men who had been following her around like lovesick puppies for days now.

"How is this helpful?" I retorted.

"I'm on Tallulah's side," Father said. "And if she prefers to seek the comfort of another, younger and potentially more faithful husband, I think that is both anthropologically and practically justified."

"Now," my mother said, "turn your workbook to page 632. It is entitled 'Deconstructing Masculinity: Exercises to Do When Your Wife Earns 10x Your Salary.'"

After that, my anxiety about who Tallulah might be planning to move on from me with skyrocketed. For the remaining days of the cruise, I stalked her everywhere. I wanted to make sure the kids had an awesome cruise too, so I took them on the water slides, went to mini golf, in the pool, up to the top deck for ice creams, all with an anxious eye roaming about the ship to make sure Tallulah wasn't getting too close to either Hans, Lars, Moseki, or Obonye.

But it was very hard. Tallulah was obviously by far the most desirable woman on the ship, or in the known universe, and I had to be on constant alert for any one of the volleyball players to be hanging around ready to accompany her to get a fruity cocktail drink, to the hot tub, or out dancing.

I did my best to intercept my wife, but I was haunted by the fear that I was too late.

What if Tallulahneverforgave me? Even though every day I begged for her to give me another chance?

I know she still loves me!I thought desperately. Deep down, I knew it. I just needed some proof. Something to give me assurance.

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