They were exactly my style—wide-heeled, glossy, elegant. Arthur looked thrilled, and Debbie waved off my compliment with a smug little jab.
“I thought you might want something nice for once. You always wear such… practical shoes.” The insult was subtle, but unmistakable. Not unusual from Debbie.
She’d never liked me. Whether it was her mentioning Arthur’s ex at Christmas or showing up uninvited with photo albums on our anniversary, she always found a way to remind me I didn’t belong. Arthur always brushed it off—“She’s just set in her ways”—but after over a year of marriage, it was clear she wasn’t warming up.
