You were sitting on the bed, watching as your husband untied his tie with quick, clumsy movements, as if it were strangling him. He was furious.

— “Your brother always thought he was so great, but everyone knows his factory belongs to your father. He wouldn't have achieved anything without your father's inheritance, and he thinks he can make fun of me?” — he said, laughing in disbelief. A bitter, resentful laugh.

— “He was just…”

— “Enough!” — he shut you up, turning to face you. — “I'm your husband. You're on my side, understood? We're not goin’ back to those family gatherings until your family learns to respect me.”

It all started with a simple comment from your older brother, which your husband, Dalton, overlooked at the time, but he didn't hold back from the moment they got in the car. It was a silly comment, but according to him, it wasn't the first time your family had looked down on him.

They were talking about work when your brother burst out laughing as your husband complained about his job at the office.

— “Well, at least you don't have to worry about the factories like we do. That’s heavy work.”

Your brother and cousins ​​laughed as they smoked cigars. At the time, Dalton just nodded, but he couldn't stop thinking about it: "Does he think my work is not hard? That it's insignificant?"

He was like that, always overthinking. He always thinks they have something against him, especially your brother.

A small silence, full with tension.

— "Call your mother tomorrow mornin’, cancel thursday's outing." — he said as he turned away and unbuttoned his shirt sleeves.