During dinner, Emma proudly boasted to Martin about how she'd handled the situation, but Martin only frowned slightly, not taking it too seriously.
Yet, I knew the White family held grudges. In the future, every little ailment or injury their son suffered would be blamed on this day's conflict.
In my previous life, I had been stuck between the White family's threats and Martin's complaints.
This time, Emma had taken on that burden herself, and I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, even eating an extra bowl of rice.
"You know, your wife is completely useless," Emma said as she twirled her immaculately manicured fingers through her hair. "Your son was insulted, and she did nothing to stand up for him. If I hadn't stepped in, who knows how badly he'd have been humiliated. He is your son, after all. You should be thanking me."
Martin smiled gently, reassuring her, "I'll come over tonight. Didn't you say you wanted that resource? I'll get it for you."
I stifled a laugh.
This was always how it went. Every time Martin came home, Emma found some excuse to whisk him away.
So I hadn't had a single intimate moment with Martin by the time I turned 30 in my last life.