The next morning, I played the perfect wife — made his favorite breakfast, kissed him goodbye. Then I paid Elise a visit. With a warm smile, I invited her over. “I need some design help,” I said sweetly. She agreed.
The next evening, I gave her a tour — not of furniture, but of my life. The endless chores, the emotional load, the unseen labor of running a household. I painted a vivid picture of what it really means to be in my shoes.
She listened, unsure whether to laugh or leave. I didn’t need to say it outright. The message was clear: You’re not ready for this life — and he’s not worth it.
That was my karma — calm, cutting, and long overdue.
