When Jared hugged me, all I could think about was how another woman had been in his arms and how her perfume still lingered on him.

My body stiffened before I could stop it. I stepped back quickly, then turned and fled to my bedroom.

Since our daughter was born, Jared and I had maintained separate bedrooms. He only visited mine when he wanted sex. Most nights, he slept alone in the guest room, leaving me the master suite to myself.

I didn’t care whether my rejection wounded him. I remained in my room until dinner called me downstairs.

Downstairs, I found Jared helping Yvonne feed her pony. When Wendy announced dinner, they washed up and took their places at the table.

“Dad,” Yvonne whined the instant she saw me, clutching Jared’s arm, “Mom hasn’t made fried meatballs in forever. Can you make her cook some now?”

Jared met my eyes. “Yvonne’s begging for your meatballs. Feel like making some?”

Wendy stood beside the dining table, her eyes darting between the spread of dishes she’d just prepared and my indifferent expression.

not cooking tonight,” I said flatly, not moving from my chair. “There’s more than

any of this,” Yvonne announced, crossing her arms stubbornly. “I only want

well—the aversion to spices and the limited palate. I’d spent years

dishes at every meal just for her. Yet here she was, still complaining. I figured this was her revenge

side as usual. “Why

loud. “Darling,” I asked, “do you have any clue how long proper meatballs

added helpfully. “And that’s before all the kneading to get the texture

Jared looked surprised. “I figured it would take

reaction, Yvonne pouted. “Dad, I only want meatballs.

My

how to manipulate me. These outrageous demands had worked every time before, so she assumed persistence would make

rubbed his temples. “Just eat something,” he said wearily.

made a show of sighing before

and retreated upstairs. Let them figure out their own

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