My anger boiled over and I felt my face go pale as my chest heaved with each breath. Jeremiah stared at me in stunned disbelief. My sudden boldness was clearly a shock to him, breaking the pattern of our relationship.
After a moment of stunned silence, Jeremiah pointed a trembling finger at me. “When did you get so sharp-tongued? And don’t let me hear you call Monica a mistress again, or else—”
I cut him off, my patience wearing thin. “Do whatever you want. If you want to divorce me and make her your wife, go ahead. I’ll help you.” With that, I slammed the bedroom door behind me, leaving him staring after me, dumbfounded and speechless.
I slumped against the door, tears streaming silently as I sank to the floor, feeling utterly defeated. The acrid smell of smoke from the living room seeped through the door crack, making me cough uncontrollably. I had always been highly sensitive to cigarette smoke and had begged Jeremiah countless times not to smoke indoors, but he never listened. He’d always brush me off with, “I’ve smoked for years and my lungs are fine. You’re just too sensitive.”