Holly was already whipping up something in the kitchen when I got home.
John had given her our home’s secret code. She had made herself quite at home since then, popping over whenever she felt like it.
That was why I had gotten into the habit of changing the code daily.
However, I just did not bother today. What was the point? John would just tell Holly the new code anyway. It was pointless to put in this Sisyphean effort.
“Yasmin, you’re back! Dinner’s almost ready!” Holly called out with her cutesy, doll-like smile, acting like she owned the place.
She and John had hit it off at some party two years back. Rumor had it that John was plastered, and she played the good Samaritan with a juice box.
He was so moved that he started calling her his ‘god-sister’—a title he had dropped on me without asking.
Just like that, she was part of the family.
“Uh-huh,” I muttered, snapping out of my thoughts and acknowledging Holly.
I headed to my room to change, with John hot on my heels.
“Why are you giving Holly the cold shoulder? She came all this way to cook for us,” he chided.
“Should I throw myself at her feet in gratitude?” I shot back, my voice dripping with ice as I faced him.
He looked like a deer in the headlights, too scared to meet my eyes. He just wrapped his arms around me, trying to smooth things over with a hug.
“Okay, it’s my bad. I know you’re not a fan of Holly. I won’t let her come around anymore.”
He promised. “How about I make it up to you tonight? Let’s sleep together.”
John and I had been married for six years, but the last year had been spent in separate beds.
It was his idea, claiming he did not want to kick the covers off and give me a cold.
However, I knew the real reason—he did not want me interrupting his nightly video chats with Holly.
