"Yes, yes, yes. I knew my wife was the best."
Looking at that shameless grin, my stomach turned. But I forced myself to swallow it down and said:
"But I have conditions. My dad stays here tonight."
"And your mother does not bring her card-playing friends to this house!"
Edgar agreed without a second's hesitation.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
"You just take Dad out for a nice dinner. By the time you two get back, I guarantee he'll have somewhere to sleep!"
He sounded so sure of himself. I didn't believe a word of it.
On my way out, I could already hear him arguing with his mother.
She was pulling the same old routine, throwing a tantrum and twisting everything around.
Wailing at the top of her lungs: "My own son picks his wife over his mother!"
Edgar, who had seemed so resolute a minute ago, was already softening, his voice dropping to a coaxing murmur.
I glanced back at them, let out a cold laugh, and shut the door.
Fine. This was his last chance.
If he couldn't figure out how to keep his word, he had no one to blame but himself.
What I didn't notice was that every shift in my expression had been watched by my father.
At dinner, as I placed food on his plate, he spoke up out of nowhere.
"Sweetheart, are you getting a divorce?"
The question hit so suddenly that my brain went blank. I had no idea how to answer.
Dad sighed.
"Don't hide things from me, sweetheart. I can see it. You're not happy. But you've always only told me the good news and kept the bad to yourself, because you didn't want me to worry."
I opened my mouth to say something, but he raised his hand to stop me.
"Honestly, I never thought much of Edgar's family. Their situation wasn't great. But I saw how attentive he was to you, and I thought, at least after the wedding there'd be one more person in the world to love my girl."
"But now his heart's shifted. He's not good to my daughter anymore. I can't stand by and let him stay with you."
On that last sentence, he couldn't hold back. His palm came down hard on the table.
Seeing his face flushed red with anger, I felt the sting hit the bridge of my nose all at once.
When Georgette knocked his plate to the floor and called his cooking pig slop, he hadn't gotten angry.
When Edgar pointed a finger in his face and called him a thief, he hadn't gotten angry.
But them wronging me? That, he couldn't take.
He was always like this. I was the one line no one was allowed to cross.