I Saw the Comments — Now He’s Finished
On our first wedding anniversary, my husband came home with a woman who was six months pregnant. He introduced her as his cousin, someone who had fallen on hard times, and asked me to take care of her.
I was just about to agree when fragments of imaginary commentary floated through my mind:
[She's just my 'cousin'. Uh-uh, that's a cliche.]
[Poor supporting female character! A maid by day, the husband's bedwarmer by night.]
[But she totally deserved it! If she hadn't broken up the main couple, they'd have a whole soccer team of kids by now!]
Wait—what? Supporting female character? Me? And what's this about breaking them up?
So now these two get to cheat under my roof, and somehow I'm the villain?
Before I could process it all, my husband was already dragging her luggage inside. "Alice doesn't like fried food," he said matter-of-factly. "And nothing too salty or spicy. Make sure you keep that in mind when you're cooking.
"Oh, and pregnant women love sweets. Go out now and buy a cherry cake. The one from that bakery in the suburbs."
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