“I simply suggested it.”
“You announced it before either of us had agreed.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic.”
I took one slow breath.
“You’ve criticized everything I’ve done today.”
“I offered advice.”
“You inspected my food, questioned every decision I made, and somehow decided I was the problem.”
She folded her arms.
“If you were more confident, constructive criticism wouldn’t upset you.”
Then she smiled.
It wasn’t kind.
It was victorious.
“You clearly can’t cook properly.”
The room fell silent.
She wasn’t finished.
“And judging by how exhausted my poor son always looks these days, you don’t seem very interested in your wifely duties either.”
Nobody moved, and nobody spoke.
I slowly turned toward Eli. He looked embarrassed.
“Say something.”
He shifted on the couch.
“Mom didn’t mean it like that.”
