The Wrong Woman

The first rays of morning sunlight seeped through the window, painting the room with a gentle glow.

Mila was still in slumber when she heard the door creak open. Startled awake, she slowly rose, her gaze landing on an unexpected visitor.

Fenna stood at the doorway; her initial surprise quickly clouded with dismay. "Why are you sleeping in Nate's room?" she snapped.

Mila clenched her fists slowly, her irritation mounting as Fenna's intrusion disrupted the peace of the early morning. She wondered why Fenna would know the passcode to Nathan's room.

"Why shouldn't I stay in my husband's room?" Mila retorted, her tone tinged with annoyance.

With a grim expression, Fenna rushed into the bathroom, grabbing a cloth and setting to work on the chair and cabinet surfaces.

Mila watched her with confusion. "What's going on?" she asked, puzzled.

sarcasm in her voice. "You don't know how to clean, but can't you tell what

frustration, Mila asked calmly, "Why

as she looked down at Mila. "Wanda, I'm Nate's assistant. For the past six months, I've attended to every aspect of his life

darkened further.

a disdainful glance. "What else have you done other than causing him trouble? Have you ever cooked him a meal

be jealous and stir up trouble in our friendship." Mila felt a pang in her stomach,

childhood, her upbringing

a housewife. Everyone had

herself and responded, "I am his wife, not his maid. Why should I

fired back, "Once you married him, these became your

Norvania have laws that stipulate that a wife must cook, do laundry, serve, and clean?" With disdain etched on her face, Fenna continued