The Counterattack of Stay-at-Home Moms

I rushed into the ward to find my dad lying on the bed, looking pale. When he saw me, he managed a weak smile and said, “Why couldn’t you figure out my phone password? It’s your birthday.”

“Make sure to pay the examination fee as soon as you can. Don’t make things hard for the hospital.”

The drama with Albert had spread like wildfire, so my dad must have heard about it. I let all the tears I’d been holding back flow freely.

I collapsed next to him, sobbing uncontrollably, “I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m worthless. I almost caused you to die.”

Dad weakly patted me and said softly, “I understand your struggles. It’s not your fault. I’m not upset with you.” As he spoke, he drifted back to sleep.

Fortunately, the doctor said Dad was fine. He had fainted from heat exhaustion and would need a few days of IV fluids before he could be discharged.

Now, as I sat quietly by his bedside, my heart slowly started to calm. Reflecting on everything that happened today, I was still shaken.

My dad, in his sixties, was working in 40°C heat on a construction site. He did it all for me, knowing I was at home with the kids and Albert wasn’t providing any support.

Dad worked hard to help us, and thankfully, he was brought to the hospital in time. But what if something like this happens again?

Meanwhile, Albert’s family seemed to enjoy the benefits of my sacrifices without a second thought.

Thinking about Albert and Elaine’s actions made my blood boil.