Her voice dropped, and the calm vanished, replaced by indignation. “Eli, can you stop acting this way? I haven’t done anything wrong! Ben and I only went through a medical procedure. There was no affair; it was just IVF. Can you not make a scene?”
The words didn’t sting like they once would have. I had nothing left to give. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she spoke again.
“Ben’s getting worse, Eli. Tomorrow morning, could you go to the market? Get some lotus root and ribs, and make that stew he likes. He needs it. Just don’t put any onions or garlic in; he’s particular about that. And simmer it for five hours at least. You know, the way he likes.”
I stared at the phone, feeling something colder than anger—a quiet realization. She’d truly started to believe I was nothing but an errand boy, a background to her world. And she didn’t even flinch when she asked for this favor. For him.