Chapter 3 - The Ramen Dinner
That night, the atmosphere in the dining room was toxic. Eleanor strutted in, weighed down by a dozen luxury shopping bags from Fifth Avenue. "Julian, darling, your money bought me the most divine Chanel coat!" she chirped, kissing his cheek.
I walked out of the kitchen and placed three porcelain bowls on our custom walnut dining table. Inside? 50-cent artificially yellow instant ramen.
Julian stared at the bowl. His face flushed a violent shade of red. "What the hell is this?"
"It's what we can afford," I said calmly.
May you like
Julian slammed his palm flat onto the table. The hot broth violently spilled over the edges, splashing onto my pink dress. "I am a man of business!" he roared, pointing a finger in my face. "I give my paycheck to my mother because she knows how to manage a household! Are we going to nickel-and-dime each other over groceries?"
Then, he crossed the line of no return. "I will say this once. I can have a hundred wives, but I only get one mother. If you don't like it, pack your bags and get out!"
