"I can cook everything."

“Well, in that case, I want a salad with corn, ham sausage, and lettuce."

"Sure thing. Let me get some ingredients." Tyrone then placed his cell phone on the table. “This is my phone. If Karen calls, let her know the room number."

"Understood."

Sabrina's gaze fell on him, a distant, unfocused stare.

This was unexpected, Tyrone's consent.

Could this imply she held a spot in his affections?

This thought, once formed, was quickly dismissed by her.

Sabrina needed to abandon her narcissism. He had shown no affection for her.

Their marriage was ending tomorrow.

The fear gnawed at her; if this chance slipped, she doubted she would gather the courage to bring it up again.

Suddenly, the phone on the table rang.

Sabrina reached out to answer it but the caller ID was a blur, only a green speck discernable on the screen. Picking up, she heard a woman's voice. "Tyrone, have you had dinner?"

"It's Sabrina," Sabrina said.

"Sabrina?" Galilea sounded taken aback. "Where's Tyrone?"

"He's out getting some grocery."

"Grocery? You guys don't have a housekeeper?"

Sabrina's voice had a mischievous undertone as she said, "The housekeeper is not here, and Tyrone plans to cook for me."

Burning with anger, Galilea retorted, "Don't mistake Tyrone's willingness to cook for you as a victory. You're still heading for a divorce!"

“What? Are you jealous? A word of caution. We're recording this call," Sabrina said calmly.

And she meant it. Tyrone's job was demanding. He often had his calls auto-recorded to avoid missing out on any details during a conversation or losing potential evidence.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself!" An infuriated Galilea ended the call abruptly.

Sabrina replaced the phone on the table, her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

Victory tasted sweet.

Before long, the phone rang again. It was Karen this time, calling for Sabrina's ward details.