The next morning, I woke earlier than usual.
Downstairs, the housekeeper asked whether I wanted to make any adjustments to the weekly menu.
I paused for a moment before answering quietly, "Whatever you think is fine. You don't need to ask me anymore."
Ivy had always had a weak stomach and an incredibly picky appetite. When we first got married, she barely ate at all.
Watching her lose weight day after day used to make my chest ache. So I rebuilt every meal around her preferences, carefully balancing nutrition with flavors she liked, changing the menu every single week.
The effort worked. Her health improved noticeably, and her stomach problems rarely flared up anymore. But none of it mattered.
Because no one ever noticed. And no one ever cared.
After cleaning up, I headed to the off
