A week after moving in with my new husband, he handed me a frilly apron and called it my “house uniform.” He said it was “just tradition.” I was stunned, but smiled and played along. He thought he wanted a Stepford Wife until I showed him how wrong he was.
One week of marriage, and I was still riding the high of it all: the ceremony, the honeymoon, and now, unpacking our things in our first home.
I heard Derek’s key in the lock, followed by his footsteps down the hall.
“Honey? I’m home,” he called out, his voice carrying that playful edge he got when he was excited about something.
“In the kitchen,” I replied, setting down a crystal serving bowl we’d received as a wedding gift from his aunt.
Derek appeared in the doorway, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, a smug grin plastered across his face.
In his free hand, he held a large box tied with a ribbon.
“Surprise!” He wiggled his eyebrows and extended the gift toward me.
My heart fluttered.
We’d agreed no more presents after the wedding, but I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.
“What’s this?”
“Open it and see.” He leaned against the counter, watching me expectantly.
I untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.
Instead of jewelry or something thoughtful, I found myself staring at a frilly floral apron folded neatly on top of what appeared to be a dated ankle-length dress.
I blinked, certain I was missing something.
“It’s your house uniform,” Derek announced with undisguised pride. “My mom wore one every day.
It makes things feel more orderly.”
I ran my fingers over the cotton apron and eyed the black dress warily. Was “house uniform” another word for Puritan dress?
All it was missing was a broad collar and a bonnet.
“You’re serious?” I asked, my voice carefully flat.
Derek doubled down with a wink.
“Totally. No pressure, though — it’s just tradition. Helps keep the homemaker mindset, y’know?”
I stared at him, searching his face for any sign he was joking.
There wasn’t one.
“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he added, his tone suggesting I should be thanking him.
“It’s definitely a surprise,” I replied, focusing on keeping my expression neutral.
I couldn’t believe what was happening.
This wasn’t what I’d signed up for — but part of me wondered if I should’ve seen it coming.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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