You Made Your Bed

Roberta was the adopted daughter of the Watsons and was Philip's sister.

She was just as obsessed with Andy Spraggins, my previous crush, as I had been. But she was the one he loved.

After I married Philip, I moved abroad. From then on, we barely had any contact.

Still, maybe she never even knew Philip loved her.

That was what I kept telling myself, though my hands were already shaking.

"You stay home and rest, sweetie. I'm going to check on Aunt Roberta."

I pulled myself together and drove to the Watsons' house.

But the moment I stepped inside, I froze at the sight of Philip, busy cooking in the kitchen.

I had assumed he'd gone to work this morning, but clearly, he'd spent the night with his sister.

Watching how focused and gentle he looked, I clenched my fists as a wave of bitterness rose in my chest.

In the five years we'd been married, he had never cooked for me. He always said he didn't know how.

But now, suddenly, he did?

He turned around, holding a bowl of soup. My sudden appearance startled him, and his voice came out sharp, almost accusatory. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on Roberta. And you."

I didn't bother hiding the sting in my tone. Guilt flashed across Philip's face, and just as he opened his mouth to respond, someone behind me cut in.

"Bring the soup upstairs for Roberta."

It was my mother-in-law, Samantha Watson's, voice. She gave Philip a look as she walked past me.

And Philip didn't even say a word. He just brushed right by me and headed upstairs.

"Victoria, I know yesterday was your anniversary, but you shouldn't have let Roberta drink!"

Samantha's tone was full of blame, and the way she frowned at me was like I'd committed a crime.

I knew she never liked me, but now she was just being ridiculous. Roberta drank the wine herself—why was I the one getting scolded?

"Mom, don't blame Victoria."

Roberta's weak voice chimed in at the perfect moment. She leaned softly against Philip, barely able to speak.

"I wanted to drink. It was my idea." She then turned to Philip. "Why didn't you tell me Victoria was coming?"

Her sickeningly sweet tone made my skin crawl.

I looked at Philip and said, "Come outside with me."

I didn't want to argue in front of everyone and make a scene. But Philip only frowned at me, not moving.

"It's okay. You should go talk to Victoria for a bit," Roberta cooed.

"You're not feeling well. He should help you back to your room to rest," Samantha cut in, clearly directing her words to Roberta. But her eyes were on me, full of judgment, as if I would be the villain if I didn't go along with it.

"I'll wait at the door," I said, turning to leave. I pretended not to hear Roberta's soft, spoiled voice behind me.

It took ten minutes before Philip finally rushed outside and caught up to me, saying, "I came over to apologize on your behalf. But don't worry, Roberta's already forgiven you. She…"

He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes locked onto my tear-stained face, and for a moment, he said nothing.

"So you think it's my fault, too, don't you?"