My husband always seemed to be “too busy” to fix anything around the house. But when our young, pretty neighbor needed help with her sink, suddenly, he was Mr. Handyman, wrench in hand, muscles flexing, and water glistening on his skin. I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. But I did plan a lesson he’d never forget.
Marriage is about trust, respect, and patience. But nothing prepared me for the moment I saw my husband, shirtless and kneeling, fixing our neighbor’s sink. Funny how he had no time for ours but all the time in the world for hers.
It all started a few weeks ago when I noticed a slow leak under our kitchen sink. At first, it was just a drip. By the next day, there was water pooling under the cabinet. I turned to Mark, who was lounging on the couch, glued to his phone.
“Mark,” I said, leaning against the doorway, “the kitchen sink is getting worse. There’s water everywhere now.”
Without even looking up, he muttered, “Call the plumber.”
I frowned. “You know how to fix sinks. You did it when we installed the new faucet last year.”
He finally looked up, irritation flashing across his face. “Claire, I have a million things to do. Can’t you see I’m busy? I’m catching up on work emails.”
“It would take you maybe 15 minutes. The plumber charges—”
“For God’s sake!” he snapped. “I don’t have 15 minutes for this trivial thing! Just call the damn plumber and let me focus.”
“Trivial?” I repeated, my face heating. “Our kitchen is practically flooding.”
“It’s a drip, not a flood,” he said, already back to his phone. “And if you keep nagging, that’s exactly why I never want to do these things. The nagging makes it ten times worse.”
Nagging? That word hit me like a slap. I stood there, waiting for him to realize how dismissive he was being. He didn’t.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll call someone tomorrow.”
A week later, I handed a plumber a check for $180. He fixed the leak in twelve minutes flat.
Later that day, arms loaded with grocery bags, I ran into our neighbor, Lily. She was a bubbly blonde in her late 20s—perky, carefree, and unfairly gorgeous. The kind of woman who reminded me of everything I had stopped being since my late 30s.
“Hey, Claire!” she chirped, bouncing over. “Let me help with those!”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve got it, though.”
“Nonsense! Neighbors help each other. Speaking of which… your husband is AMAZING! Not every man would drop everything to help a neighbor in distress.”
I nearly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. “My husband… Mark?”
“Mmm-hmm! He’s at my place right now! My kitchen sink was completely backed up. I knocked on your door, and he answered. He grabbed his toolbox and came right over!”
The grocery bags suddenly felt like they weighed a ton. “Is that so?”
“Oh, yes! He’s been working on it for nearly half an hour! Said it was a tricky one. He even took his shirt off when water splashed all over it.” She giggled. “I told him not to worry, but he insisted he works better that way.”
“I bet he does,” I murmured, my chest burning.
“Hey, want to come over? He’s still fixing it!”
I smiled. “You know, I’ve been meaning to understand how sinks work. Maybe I’ll stop by and watch.”
“Come on over! He’s really focused.”
We walked into her apartment, and I peeked into the kitchen. And there he was—my husband of 15 years, shirtless, kneeling, wrench in hand. Muscles flexed, water glistening, just like she described.
“Hey, Mark, how’s it going?” Lily asked.
“Heyo! Just wrestling with these pipes! You’ve got to make sure this connection is tight. Otherwise, you’ll get leaks like my wife had. Though yours is actually a bit more complicated.”
“Of course it is,” I thought, my blood boiling.
“Is it going to be expensive to fix?” Lily asked, leaning suggestively against the counter.
Mark laughed. “Not with me doing it for free! A plumber would charge you at least 200 bucks for this.”
Two hundred? Twenty more than I paid that morning. That was enough. I picked up my groceries and left without either of them noticing.
I didn’t yell. I didn’t argue. Instead, I planned a lesson.
That weekend, I hosted a barbecue. Mark, as usual, manned the grill. I waited until Lily arrived, her sundress hugging her curves. I saw Mark glance at her before quickly looking away when he noticed me watching. Perfect.
I waved her over. “Lily! Come meet everyone.”
She beamed as I put my arm around her. “Lily, I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you get Mark to fix your sink so quickly? I’ve been trying for years to get that kind of service!”
The backyard went silent. Mark froze at the grill. Lily, oblivious, laughed. “I just knocked and asked! He was so sweet and came right over!”
“Interesting!” I mused. “Because when our sink was leaking, he told me to call a plumber. Cost us nearly 200 bucks!”
Lily’s smile faded. The neighbors stared. Someone whispered, “Uh-oh.”
Mark abandoned the grill and walked over, jaw tight. “Claire, can I speak with you inside?”
“Why? I’m just chatting about home repairs.”
Mark practically dragged me inside. “What the hell was that?!”
I crossed my arms. “Making a point.”
“You embarrassed me in front of everyone!”
“No, you embarrassed yourself when you prioritized Lily’s sink over mine.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
For the next few days, I gave him a taste of his own medicine.
Monday: His alarm didn’t go off. “Oh, I thought you were too busy to set it.”
Tuesday: No clean laundry. “Washing machines are tricky. Maybe Lily knows how they work.”
Wednesday: No dinner. “Didn’t have 15 minutes for something so trivial.”
By Friday, he was defeated. “Okay, I get it. I was an ass. I’m sorry.”
“You know what hurt most?” I asked. “Not that you helped her, but that you dismissed me. You made me feel like I was nagging.”
“I know,” he admitted. “I messed up. Big time.”
“Good. Because the bathroom sink is dripping now.”
Panic flashed across his face. “I’ll fix it. Right now.”
“You sure? Not too busy?”
“No, no! I’m on it!”
These days, Mark fixes everything. And Lily? She’s got a plumber—one who keeps his shirt on and charges full price.
Marriage is built on trust. And if you ever put the neighbor’s sink above your wife’s, you’d better be ready for the pipes of your life to burst wide open. That’s one flood no man is equipped to handle.
