I saw Jennifer kneeling on the ground, her clothes not very neat. She was covered in sweat as she was tying up her messy hair.
Eric also smelled of sweat and his eyes were a bit unfocused.
Before I could speak, he scolded, "You ingrate, you still know to come back, don't you? Why don't you let our son starve to death?"
They never called me or sent a message to ask where I was.
He left our son downstairs and stayed alone with our neighbor, but shamelessly blamed me for being an ingrate.
The goody-two-shoes behind him said softly, "Don't blame your husband. He cares about his family. He stayed here to test the effectiveness of my classes all for your son."
She then asked in a sweet voice, "How do you think of my classes?"
My husband coughed twice and his tone became gentle. "Not bad. I will come tomorrow to sign up and pay."
Then, he stared at me and said, "Alright, stop embarrassing yourself! Jennifer will laugh at you. Go back home!"
In my previous life, after he signed up our son for classes, he always went upstairs, claiming to supervise our son's yoga practice.
I worked as an Uber driver, which was more tiring than his job, and I didn't earn less money than him.