When Julia’s husband, Jordan, refuses to buy eggs for their kids, she’s furious, but she lets it slide. Until she discovers he’s been secretly stocking his mother’s fridge instead. Now, Julia is determined to teach him a lesson in priorities, but what starts as petty revenge turns into a conversation that could change their marriage forever.

I never thought I’d be writing an entire rant about eggs, but here we are.

Egg prices are actually insane right now! And if you’ve been to a grocery store lately, you know they might as well be a luxury item.

But for us?

Eggs aren’t just some random breakfast staple. We have two toddlers, two growing kids who need eggs in their diet.

So, when my husband, Jordan, casually told me that we should cut back on groceries and skip the eggs, I was furious.

But I let it slide.

Until I found out where the eggs were actually going.

And let’s just say, Jordan won’t ever be confused about his priorities again.

Last Monday, I called Jordan while he was on his way home from work.

“Hey, honey,” I said. “Can you grab a few dozen eggs? The kids are almost out, and you know they have a set breakfast routine. And please, grab some bananas too.”

There was a pause. I heard Jordan turn off the radio. Then, the audacity.

“Julia, have you seen the prices of eggs lately? We don’t need them that bad. The boys can do without. Elijah doesn’t even like eggs; he’s just used to the routine. And Levi will eat anything. We should start cutting back on groceries.”

Cut back?

On food? For our toddlers?

My grip tightened around my phone.

“We’re not cutting back on basic nutrition for our kids, Jordan. Maybe you should cancel your gym subscription. It’s not like you use it anyway.”

My husband sighed like I was being the unreasonable one.

“It’s just eggs, Julia. They’ll be fine. Give them more fruit or something.”

I pressed my lips together to keep myself from shouting or arguing further.

You want to play the “we need to save money” game, Jordan? Okay, let’s play, I thought.

I got the boys into the car, and we went to pick up the eggs ourselves. I added chocolate bars and fresh fruit. I even threw in some yogurt and bottles of milkshake.

No big deal.

Or so I thought.

That weekend, we visited Jordan’s mother, Carolyn. I didn’t mind Carolyn too much. She generally stayed in her lane as far as mothers-in-law go, and she didn’t try to micromanage how I raised my boys.

So, when she asked us to bring the kids over so she could spend some time with them, I agreed. And since she’s not the kind of grandma who cooks for her grandkids, I packed them lunch boxes.

When we got to her house, I went to put the lunch boxes into the fridge. I mean, who wanted to eat room-temperature ham and cheese sandwiches?

And that’s when I saw it.

A fridge full of eggs.

I’m talking fully stocked. Like, cartons stacked upon each other. My mother-in-law was either preparing for the apocalypse or about to make omelets for a hundred people.

I looked at them and swallowed hard.

What the hell?

“Wow, Carolyn!” I said. “Where did you find so many eggs? I swear, I can’t even find a dozen at a decent price these days!”

She beamed, completely oblivious to the war breaking out in my brain. Jordan and I were on opposing ends, each preparing for battle.

“Oh, Jules,” she said. “I know the struggle. It’s been so difficult to find eggs, let alone get decent sizes and prices to match. But Jordan got these for me. He’s such a sweetheart! He brought them over yesterday so that I wouldn’t have to go looking.”

My stomach dropped.

I turned to Jordan, who was raiding his mother’s snack cupboard. And this man, this man who had told me that eggs were too expensive for our children, had the nerve to look guilty.

I exhaled slowly.

Not here, Julia. Not here and not now.

I knew Jordan. If I called him out in front of his mom, he’d go straight into defensive mode. Carolyn would rush to his side, making excuses for him while supplying the kids with store-bought snacks, and suddenly, I’d be the bad guy.

So instead, I smiled.

“Wow, Jordan, that was really thoughtful of you!”

His shoulders relaxed. He actually thought he had dodged a bullet.

Oh, you poor, naïve fool.

The entire ride home, I was silent.

I wasn’t fuming. I was calculating.

And by Monday morning?

Operation Priorities was in full effect.

Monday morning dawned, and Jordan sat at the table expecting his usual eggs, toast, and sausages before work.

Instead?

I made him a single slice of dry toast and a cup of black coffee. No sugar.

“Uh… where’s breakfast, Jules?” he asked, blinking at his plate.

I gave him my sweetest smile.

“Oh, honey,” I said. “I had to cut back on groceries. Eggs are too expensive, remember? And honestly, so is milk. And sugar. Don’t get me started on sausages. How are we supposed to live?”

His face twitched.

“Julia,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Come on! That was about the kids, not me!”

I tilted my head.

“Well, if our own children don’t need eggs, Jordan, I don’t think you need them either.”

He sighed and took a bite of his pathetic, eggless toast.

“I’m going to sort the kids out now,” I said. “Have a great day.”

He mumbled something under his breath, but I was already walking down the hallway.

The next morning?

Jordan had to have the same sad breakfast.

And the next.

And the next.

There were eggs in the fridge. If Jordan hadn’t been so lazy, he could have opened the fridge and found them there. He could have made his own breakfast. He could have sorted himself out.

But he didn’t. Because that was Jordan, lazy and selfish.

By the fifth sad, eggless morning, he finally snapped.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” he said.

I looked up, feigning innocence.

“Get what, Jordan?” I asked, making myself a cup of tea.

“I shouldn’t have bought eggs for my mom while telling you to cut back, Jules. It was selfish, okay? But when my mom called, I just… I just couldn’t say no. Can I please have eggs now?”

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed.

“Oh, I don’t know, Jordan,” I said, dipping my shortbread into the cup. “I was actually thinking of sending the ones I just bought to your mom. Since, you know, she’s the priority here.”

He groaned, rubbing his face.

“Alright, alright, Julia,” he said. “I messed up. I know. I should have put the kids first.”

I let the silence hang for a moment.

Then?

I got up, walked to the fridge, and grabbed one egg.

Just one single egg.

I placed it on his plate.

“There. That’s all you get today, Jordan,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow… if I feel like it, you’ll get two.”

His jaw dropped.

“Julia! What am I supposed to do with a raw egg?”

“Oh, hush. Figure it out. Frying an egg isn’t difficult. And you should be grateful that I didn’t send it to Carolyn.”

Jordan groaned, staring at the single, lonely egg on his plate like it had personally offended him.

“Julia,” he tried again, his voice softer this time. “Listen. I can explain.”

I didn’t say anything. I just leaned against the counter, arms crossed, waiting.

For an explanation? More excuses?

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, his usual stressed expression.

“It’s not just about the eggs, Jules,” he said. “Work’s been rough. They’ve been making cuts at the office, and I keep thinking… what if I’m next? What if something happens? I’ve been trying to save wherever I can, just in case…”

I blinked, my stance softening a little.

“You never told me that, Jordan.”

“Because I didn’t want to stress you out too. You already do so much with the kids, the house… everything. I thought I could just handle it, you know?”

“By not buying eggs for our children?” My voice wasn’t angry now, just disappointed.

Jordan exhaled, staring at his plate.

“It was a stupid decision, okay? I just… I panicked. My mom called and said she was struggling to find eggs, and I just…”

“And you what? You forgot about your own family, Jordan?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath in.

“She was a single mom, Julia. She worked three jobs to keep me fed and educated. I know she’s not struggling now, but when she asked for something… I didn’t know how to say no.”

I studied him, watching the tension in his face. For the first time since this whole ridiculous egg saga started, I saw the guilt beneath it all. Not just about the eggs, but about letting people down. About letting his mom down. Me. Our kids.

“Jordan,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I get it. I do. But do you know what’s worse than telling your mom ‘no’? Telling your children that their father wouldn’t even buy food for them.”

His gaze snapped up to meet mine.

“I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Well, you should,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Look, I know money is tight. But we’re a team, Jordan. You don’t get to decide these things alone, and you damn sure don’t get to put your mom before your own kids.”

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

“You’re right,” he admitted.

I sat across from him, reaching for his hand.

“Next time? Talk to me. No more cutting back on food, no more making me the bad guy. We’ll figure it out together.”

Jordan’s fingers tightened around mine.

I could hear the kids’ alarm clock going off. The little monsters would be storming the kitchen soon.

“Together,” Jordan replied.

“Now, would you like an omelet?” I asked.

My husband smiled at me, and just like that, we were okay again.

I didn’t think much about the conversation with Jordan after that. Things went back to normal, Jordan bought the groceries, the kids got their eggs, and I stopped serving him his “budget-friendly” dry toast breakfasts.

But then, last Friday, something unexpected happened.

I opened the fridge to grab some eggs for the boys’ breakfast and nearly dropped the carton in shock. Because instead of the usual two or three cartons I bought, there were six.

I turned to my husband, who was standing by the coffee maker, scrolling through his phone.

“Jordan? All of this?” I asked. “Did you rob a farm or something?”

He glanced up, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I just figured that I’d stock up, you know? Make sure that we don’t run out again.”

I narrowed my eyes as I popped some bread into the toaster.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“You made your point, Jules,” he said. “Some things are non-negotiable. Like food. For our kids. And honestly? I like eggs too.”

“Look at you, Jordan, learning and growing.”

My husband laughed loudly.