I took a breath.
“This is my career.”
He stood up.
“A woman’s main responsibility is her home.”
I stared at him.
“I’ve never agreed to that.”
“I allowed you to work.”
Those words made my stomach turn.
“Allowed?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t allow me to do anything.”
He slammed his hand against the table.
“Then choose!”
I froze.
“What?”
“Choose me or the job.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re asking me to choose between my marriage and my career?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am completely serious.”
I didn’t answer.
Neither did he.
We spent the rest of the evening in separate rooms.
The Flowers
Later that night, Norman changed his behavior completely.
He prepared dinner.
He bought flowers.
He acted affectionate.
For a brief moment, I thought perhaps he had realized how cruel he’d been.
Maybe he was going to apologize.
Maybe he’d say he was scared.
Maybe he’d tell me he didn’t mean it.
Instead, he sat across from me and smiled.
“So…”
I looked up.
“Have you changed your mind?”
“No.”
His smile disappeared.
He didn’t argue.
He simply nodded.
“Okay.”
There was something about that “okay” that bothered me.
It was too calm.
Too easy.
I should have known something was wrong.
The Message
The next morning, I woke up early.
I needed to review the final details of the clinic offer.
I picked up my phone and opened the message thread with the clinic administrator.
Then I saw the last message.
My stomach dropped.
It had been sent at 1:07 a.m.
The message read:
“I’M TURNING DOWN THE OFFER. Don’t contact me about this again.”
I stared at the screen.
I hadn’t written it.
I hadn’t even been awake.
I checked the timestamp.
1:07 a.m.
Then I remembered something.
Norman knew my phone password.
He was the only other person who did.
I walked into the kitchen.
He was making coffee.
He looked happier than I’d seen him in weeks.
“Good morning, honey.”
I held up my phone.
“Did you send this?”
He looked at it.
Then he smiled.
“You needed sleep.”
My heart pounded.
“You sent this?”
“I handled it.”
“You had no right.”
“You weren’t going to do it yourself.”
“I accepted that job.”
“You were confused.”
“I was not confused.”
He shrugged.
“It was better for both of us.”
I stared at him.
“You impersonated me.”
He didn’t appear to understand why I was furious.
“I was protecting our marriage.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You were controlling me.”
He frowned.
“Don’t make this dramatic.”