Even from the backseat, I could tell from the reflection in the rearview mirror that Vincent seemed to be in a good mood.
"Could you turn up the temperature? I'm allergic to pollen, and the cold makes it worse," I said.
Vincent silently handed me a tissue packet.
Vincent and I had known each other since childhood. We dated for four years and were married for seven, so he knew well that I wasn't actually allergic to pollen.
"Mia."
"Mr. Dent, please call me Ms. Miller."
"Alright, Ms. Miller. I'll handle informing both our families about the divorce."
Vincent always liked to take on all matters related to me, and this was no exception.
But he wasn't always this way.
As a child, Vincent was small, skinny, and shy.
He was constantly bullied in kindergarten.
I, on the other hand, was outgoing and, driven by my youthful sense of justice, could be quite a troublemaker.
Because his mother always prepared delicious treats for me, I felt obligated to look out for him.
One day, I climbed up to the kindergarten's PA system and announced to the entire school, "Vincent is under my protection."