The next morning, Garrett emerged from the guest room with dark circles under his eyes, still radiating the leftover fury of a night of heavy drinking.He'd spent the night at a bar and fully expected to come home to "Serena" perched on the couch with red-rimmed eyes, waiting for him. Instead, the house was pitch dark. She hadn't even left a light on.Irritated, he loosened his tie, walked to the dining room, and pulled out his chair with the ease of habit."Serena, where's my black coffee? And Vivian's stomach is sensitive—go make her some avocado smoothie."Silence. A full ten seconds of it.No soft "Of course, honey." No quiet clink of a coffee cup meeting the table.Garrett frowned and looked up."I" was seated at the far end of the dining table, holding a steaming glass of milk, sipping it at a leisurely pace.Hearing his orders, "I" didn't even lift an eyelid. Just let a few words fall out, flat and final:"Want coffee? Pour it yourself. Want food? Make it yourself. I'm not your
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