Adeline had heard her fair share of thoughtless comments as a mother, but nothing pierced her heart like the words that came from her children that night: “I wish you didn’t exist.” It wasn’t whispered in anger by one child but echoed by both, each of them loud, ungrateful, and unaware of how their words cut her to the core. She had always been patient, forgiving tantrums, messy rooms, and slammed doors. But this time, something inside her broke.
She decided she would give them exactly what they asked for.
People often claimed being a housewife was easy. They imagined long afternoons of leisure, sipping tea and lounging while the husband worked hard outside. Adeline knew better. Her life as a stay-at-home mother was an unending cycle of chores, teaching, cooking, and discipline. The house was her office, and there were no breaks, no paychecks, no weekends off.
Her days started before sunrise—packing lunches, ironing school uniforms, brewing coffee for her husband Bartholomew, and coaxing her five-year-old son Cedric out of bed. Cedric was a lively child, but his stubborn streak could reduce her to exhaustion before noon. Then there was Florence, her daughter on the cusp of adolescence, armed with eye rolls and cutting sarcasm that could slice through Adeline’s patience in seconds. And Bartholomew himself, though not unkind, seemed to believe that his paycheck absolved him of household responsibility. To him, Adeline’s contributions were invisible.
That evening, the family sat down to dinner as they did every night. It was supposed to be a time for connection, but it often felt more like a battlefield.
“How was preschool today, Cedric?” Adeline asked brightly, trying to set a cheerful tone.
Cedric shrugged. “Okay. But Miss Carter might call you tomorrow.”
Her fork froze midway to her mouth. “Why would she call me?”
“I wanted to pet a dog outside, but Miss Carter said stray dogs could have… uh… rab… rab—”
“Rabies,” Florence interjected with a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, rabies,” Cedric nodded. “I didn’t like what she said, so I bit her.”
Adeline’s jaw dropped. “You bit your teacher?”
Cedric nodded proudly. “She said rabies comes from bites. I wanted to show her.”
Florence smirked. “Mom, you’re raising a wild animal.”
“Don’t talk about your brother like that,” Adeline snapped. She turned to her husband for backup. “Bartholomew, do you have anything to say?”
He barely looked up from his plate. “You’re doing great, love,” he murmured, giving her hand a quick pat before going back to his food.
Adeline swallowed her frustration and moved on. “Florence, how was your day?”
“Fine,” Florence muttered.
“That’s it?” Adeline pressed.
“Oh, I’m staying at Isadora’s tomorrow,” Florence added casually.
The next day only got worse. Cedric’s room looked like a hurricane had ripped through it despite repeated reminders to clean up. Adeline had to endure the humiliation of apologizing to Miss Carter for the bite. Then the school called to inform her that Florence had skipped classes entirely.
By evening, her patience had evaporated. When the kids came home, she stood in the hallway, arms crossed. “Both of you, stop right there. We need to talk.”
Florence groaned. “What now?”
“Cedric, your room looks like a war zone. I warned you. No video games until it’s cleaned.”
Cedric’s face reddened. “That’s not fair!”
Florence snickered. “Nice one, Cedric.”
Adeline’s gaze snapped to her. “Don’t laugh. Your school called. You skipped class.”
“It was just once!” Florence shouted.
“You’re grounded for a week. And no sleepover at Isadora’s.”
Florence’s chair screeched back. “You can’t do this! I hate you! I wish you didn’t exist!”
Cedric, emboldened by his sister, yelled, “Yeah, me too!”
Adeline felt the words slam into her chest like a physical blow. Her throat burned, but she kept her composure. Later that night, she recounted everything to Bartholomew, hoping for comfort.
He shrugged. “Maybe you were too hard on them. They’re just kids.”
“Did you hear what Florence said to me?”
“She didn’t mean it,” he replied dismissively.
That was the final straw. “Fine,” Adeline said coldly. “Then I’ll show you what life is like without me.”
Bartholomew frowned, confused. But she didn’t explain. That night, while the house slept, Adeline packed away her belongings—clothes, books, journals, the little mug she used for coffee every morning. She even removed photos of herself from the walls. She stashed everything in the attic, where she set up a small makeshift room with a mattress, lamp, and blanket. Hidden cameras in the kitchen and living room gave her a front-row seat to what her absence would do.
The next morning, her plan unfolded.
Cedric padded into the kitchen. “Where’s Mom?”
Florence frowned. “Her stuff’s gone. Even the photos.”
Bartholomew looked uneasy. “I’ll call her.” But her phone was switched off.
“Maybe she’s gone forever,” Cedric whispered, eyes wide.
“Don’t be silly,” Florence said, but her voice wavered. Then she grinned. “Actually… maybe it’s better this way. No nagging.”
Cedric jumped. “That means I can play video games all day!”
That night, Adeline watched them on camera, laughing over video games and eating pizza. She clenched her fists when she saw Cedric wolfing down cheese despite his lactose intolerance. By morning, he was doubled over with cramps. Bartholomew scrambled helplessly, missing work to care for him.
Within days, the house fell apart. Laundry piled high, dishes crusted in the sink, and Florence dragged herself to school with messy hair and an empty lunchbox. By the third evening, the cracks showed.
“I miss Mom,” Cedric sobbed on the couch.
Florence, pale and weary, whispered, “Me too. I—I got my period today, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to call her so bad.” Tears streamed down her face. “I was so stupid to say I wished she didn’t exist.”
Bartholomew rubbed his temples. “This is what happens when you take someone for granted. Your mother does everything for this family.”
“I’ll clean my room every day,” Cedric promised through tears. “I’ll never bite anyone again. Just please bring her back.”
Florence choked out, “I’ll stop yelling. I’ll listen. I just want her home.”
Adeline couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped into the living room, her face streaked with tears but her voice steady. “I hope you’ve learned what life without me feels like.”
The kids gasped and ran into her arms, clinging as though they’d never let go again.
“Mom! You’re back! We’re so sorry!”
Bartholomew stood, his voice thick. “I didn’t realize how much you carried until now. Thank you for everything. I’ll do better.”
Adeline kissed her children’s foreheads, holding them close. “I love you. But love means respect. Never forget that.”
That night, for the first time in years, Bartholomew helped clean the kitchen, Cedric tidied his toys without protest, and Florence sat beside her mother, asking for advice. It wasn’t a perfect family, but it was a family that finally understood her worth.
Adeline hadn’t vanished forever. She had only disappeared long enough to remind them all of one simple truth: mothers are the backbone of a home, and without them, everything falls apart.