My husband sla:pped me because dinner wasn’t ready. Then he, his mother, and his sister ordered me to cook or face the consequences. They sat in the dining room, smug and hungry, waiting for their “obedient wife” to serve them. Little did they

forks tapping against empty plates.

Daniel called, “Claire, bring more wine.”

I carried in the bottle and filled their glasses. The mark on my cheek was still visible, but none of them looked ashamed. Gloria examined me with satisfaction.

“You should cover that tomorrow,” she said. “People ask questions.”

Vanessa snorted. “Tell them she walked into a cabinet.continue reading …