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Over the next few weeks, I gave Chad exactly what he wanted: the perfect housewife. Every morning, I was up early, making his breakfast, scrubbing the house until it gleamed, and cooking fancy dinners that looked like they belonged on a cooking show.
I even dressed up every evening, greeting him at the door with a smile that didn’t reach my heart.
“Hey, babe,” he said one evening, lingering at the kitchen door while I prepared a three-course meal. “You’ve been really quiet. Everything okay?”
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