A Week After We Moved in Together, He Handed Me a ‘House Uniform’—He Wasn’t Ready for What Came Next

Derek laughed nervously. “The uniform is enough, honey. You don’t need to call me ‘sir.'”

I tilted my head, expression innocent. “Should I wait by the door at 6 p.m. sharp with your slippers, sir?”

He frowned. “What? No.”

Later that evening, I knocked softly on his office door. “Permission to use the bathroom during my shift, sir?”

Derek’s grin began to falter. “Okay, you don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“Sarcastic? I thought this was tradition.” I gestured at my outfit, complete with the frilly apron and now a pair of white gloves I’d found at a thrift store.

That weekend, Derek’s boss and a few coworkers came over for dinner.

I greeted them in full uniform, opening the door wide, and curtsying almost to the floor as they trooped inside.

“Welcome to our home,” I announced. “The master of the house will be down shortly to greet you.”

“Er… are you Derek’s wife?” his boss, Richard, asked as I took his coat.

I pointed to my nametag. “I am, sir.”

He smiled uncomfortably. “That’s… uh. What did you do before you got married?”

“Oh, I retired my dreams the moment I said ‘I do,'” I replied with a placid smile. “Derek prefers it that way.”

The room chilled. Derek, who had just come down the stairs, turned beet red.

“Honey, didn’t we agree that this… joke had gone a bit too far?” He said as he hurried up to greet his colleagues.

“But I’m not joking, sir,” I replied. “I’m fulfilling my proper role as your wife.”

One of Derek’s coworkers, Anita, narrowed her eyes. “Proper role?”

“The homemaker,” I explained brightly. “Derek believes in traditional values. The apron helps maintain the right mindset.” I smoothed my hands over the frilly fabric. “Isn’t it darling? Just like his mother used to wear.”