Illicit Love Struck

"Go back to my house," John said, which took my breath away. Then, I turned to him, whose gaze was still fixed on the television. I never expected this man to be nice or affectionate towards me because it was impossible. But he at least looked at me when we talked. He wasn't talking to the TV, right? "Your place is no longer here."

"I've lived here since my freshman year, John. Whether it's a fancy apartment or not, I feel comfortable here. You wouldn't understand."

"That's not the case. It's in the agreement that we shouldn't behave in a way that causes others to distrust our marriage. And you did that by going back to your place, leaving the impression that we were fighting."

"Why do you care about other people's judgment? Even Hell—I mean, Hellen. If she loved you, she wouldn't care what you look or even what you have," I replied diplomatically. Inwardly, I wanted to say something more scathing to counter his treatment of me.