Even after he called my name three times, I continued to lie in bed pretending to be asleep.
"Emma!"
He shouted again, his voice laced with evident anger.
I remained unmoved.
Outside, I heard the sound of hurried, unsteady footsteps.
The next moment, Ethan was in the bathroom, throwing up noisily.
The next day, he fell asleep on the bathroom floor, still in his clothes, without even changing his shoes.
I took a deep breath and kicked him hard twice.
Ethan groggily lifted his head and glanced at his watch.
"Why are you just getting up now?" he asked, bewildered.
Usually, I would wake up at five to make him a heartfelt breakfast.
Today, I had the rare luxury of sleeping in until six-thirty. Even though I had only managed a couple of hours of sleep, it was still better than staying awake all night.
He clumsily got up from the floor, ripped off his dirty clothes, and confronted me.
"Why didn't you wait for me to come home? Where's the kudzu tea? Why did you let me sleep in the bathroom all night?"
He was still drunk, and I couldn't be bothered to engage with him.
"Emma, I'm hungry."
"There's a breakfast shop downstairs. You can grab something on your way to work."