Miranda seemed to think of something. She raised her hand and casually scratched her necklace and then turned to coax our daughter.
"Olive, go get your mosquito repellent and apply it to Mom!"
My daughter got out of the room with her tiny legs. No longer putting on a facade, Miranda immediately threw a bowl of chowder directly in my face.
"Anthony, you’re fucking nuts! If it weren’t for our daughter being here, I would’ve thrown it harder just to wake you up!"
"So what if our daughter was in the hospital and I didn’t stay to watch her? Is that such a big deal? Is it worth using fish as a reason to divorce me?"
I wiped the chowder off my face. The fishy stench, mixed with the greasiness of the hot broth, stuck onto my skin like an indelible shame. Meanwhile, people were glaring at me. Yet, I didn’t give a fuck about it any longer.
Instead, I pulled the documents from my bag and slammed them on the table.
"I’ve prepared the divorce agreement. Sign it."
It was my mother who became the first to react. She bent down to pick up the agreement, taking a look at it. And then her face suddenly darkened.
"So you want Miranda to leave the house?!"