Why Can’t It Be The Other Way Around - 3

I work as the Finance Head at L’oreal. I have been happily married for 4 years. I am awakened every morning at 9 a.m. The first face I see is that of my husband’s. The first things I hear: “Honey breakfast is ready!” I manage to push the blanket away and stand up with a smile as wide as my lips can stretch. I realize I might get late for work and hurry off to the bathroom. When I am out, our bed’s done neatly, my suit for the day waiting ready on the bed. I get dressed quickly and seize my leather bag kept on the table across the bed.

I rush down. I can hear the sound of oil being splashed onto the dosa tawa. I can smell the aroma of the curry leaves in the potato curry. The dinning table is set, freshly squeezed orange juice had already been poured into my glass, a plate with adequate amount of chutni and potato curry served on it. As I take a seat and open the newspaper, my husband arrives from the kitchen with a plate of freshly made dosas and takes a seat next to me. He is smartly dressed in a black shirt with thin grey vertical stripes and navy blue denim. We eat our sumptuous breakfast discussing the headlines on the newspaper. We finish our breakfast and he asks me to pull out the car from the garage as he finishes washing the dishes.

I pulled the car out and honked twice. My husband walks out shuts the gate behind, sits in the car and fastens his belt. Then he turns towards me and in a raised voice says, “You forgot your phone as usual!” I apologize, put the cell in my bag and start driving. I drop him off at his office. He works as a Senior Engineer at a start-up. I wave a bye as he walks away and head off to my work station. I have a lot of work pilled up for me as is everyday. My husband is done by 8:00 p.m. everyday. I take another two hours. He waits till I’m done. At around 10:00 p.m., on the way back home I pick him up and we drive home together. I take my own sweet time to change and till then he serves dinner. We have a nice short dinner and occasionally we take a long night stroll to the ice-cream parlor a kilometer away from home. We get back, just finishing the last bit of my ice-cream and I have more work to complete. He goes off to bed and I take a few more hours.

Every night before I sleep, I pray that we always remain happy.
So why cant it be the other way around? Why is a man’s massive ego hurt if his wife earns more than him? Why cant a happy couple exist where the woman of the house earns double as much as the man, where the man of the house takes care of the house and other chores, where the man understands his wife will love and admire him for what he is and not for his pay package?