“What is this?” I heard him yell from the kitchen before he materialized by the doorway. “No dinner?”
I ignored him and turned my gaze to the ceiling.
Rhysand stopped back to where I sat, the stench of adultery clinging to his body stung my nostrils. “I said, where’s dinner?”
Silence still. My weapon of choice tonight.
A sigh soon lifted out of him and when I spared him a glance, he actually seemed annoyed. “Look, I–” He cut himself off, reaching into a bag I hadn’t noticed and producing a dazzling box. “This should make you feel better.”
My stomach twisted in disgust and I was thankful his folks were asleep and couldn’t witness this. Gritting my teeth, I took the box from him and threw it across the room.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Athena?” He yelled, his calm facade forgotten.
“I am divorcing you, Rhysand Havilliard. And that means, I do not cook for you anymore and YOU do not try to buy me with gifts!” Despite the hole in my chest, my voice was steady and cold.
Just then a familiar voice echoed in the living room, by the box I’d tossed across. “Dear, what’s going on?”
My mother-in-law, clearly awoken by our arguments moved closer to us and touched her son’s arms with natural French-tipped fingers. “Is this…thing at it again?”
I let out a shaky laugh and stormed back upstairs to Chris’s room, for if I spent a single second more with those people, I…I would get physical.