That evening, she decided she couldn’t stay silent. Over dinner, she confronted Peter, her voice trembling with rage and pain. “After everything I’ve done for you, for us, how can you justify leaving me with nothing?” Her words hung in the air, heavy with accusation. Peter barely looked up from his plate.
“It’s not like you contributed financially,” he said, his tone casual, as if discussing a mundane chore. “I worked hard for everything we have. It’s only fair I keep it.” His words were a knife to her heart, cutting deeper than she thought possible. Cindy’s hands clenched into fists.