Laura
It had been three months since David and I had sealed our Saturdays. The arrangement was supposed to be simple: one day a week, he could spend time with me and the twins, nothing more. Yet, as I opened the door at 9 a.m. sharp, there he was, holding pink roses in one hand and a stack of gifts for the twins in the other.
“Good morning,” he greeted me with a knowing smirk, leaning in to kiss me lightly on the lips. I froze for a second, but accepted the roses without protest.
“How do you even know pink roses are my favorite?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him suspiciously.
He looked offended. “Do you think I don’t know my wife?”
I shot a glance at Mrs. Abigail, who popped her head out from the kitchen.
“It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re thinking!” she said defensively before di
