I came back early and found my wife silently washing dishes; my own family had her hidden away as a servant, and when I heard them tell her, “You should be grateful to be here,” I knew everything was rotten.

Silence fell.

My mother forced a smile.
“Don’t be ridiculous. She was helping.”

“There’s a difference,” I said, “between helping and being humiliated.”

Murmurs spread. Guests shifted uncomfortably.

Vanessa spoke quickly.
“She’s playing the victim.”