The only light in the living room of your contemporary house is coming from the small lamp next to the couch where you sit bundled up in a fluffy blanket with your computer perched on your lap.

Your husband, Donavan, was long asleep in your bedroom. Your sassy cat probably staring at him as if he was the enemy. To your cat, he actually is.

You’ve been taking on more work than ever and more than you can actually handle. You haven’t told Don about your struggle because words in his family spread like a wildfire and his parents already don’t really like you because you’re American. In their eyes, he should have married a fellow Mexican.