After a grueling day, I returned home, physically and emotionally drained. I didn’t bother turning on the lights or changing out of my wet clothes; I went straight to the bedroom. Jeremiah’s voice startled me as he said, “Joanna, you’re back now? I thought you’d forgotten our address.” I turned around to find him sitting on the sofa, his expression cold and accusatory.
“Why can’t I come back? Isn’t this my home?” I shot back, meeting his glare with my own, feeling a surge of defiance.
Jeremiah’s face turned red with anger. He stood up and marched toward me, his frustration evident. “Seriously? What happened last night isn’t finished yet. How dare you act cold toward me?”
I laughed bitterly. “Cold? Do you think I should have clung to the concert tickets, knelt before you and your mistress and begged you to take them? Or maybe I should have come running to congratulate you while you were cozy with her? I’m your legal wife and you’re with her almost every day. I didn’t come home for one night and suddenly I’m the cold one?”