Franco
I see my wife rushing around the room getting ready to go to the university. Since I came back from the kitchen early this morning, I've noticed she's been very serious. She seems upset.
"I left your breakfast ready. I have to go," she says goodbye to me coldly and walks toward the exit. I follow her before she leaves and see her quickly take something from a glass.
"Is that all you're going to drink?" I ask her, but she just nods while wiping her mouth.
"Yes, I don't have an appetite in the mornings. I just have a smoothie and eat something at school," she smiles at me, but the love that usually fills her eyes when she looks at me isn't there.
"I get home around seven in the evening. What time do you usually get home?" I ask her. I don't know her schedule, so I need to adjust
