I’m not doing anything wrong, not really. Some women use tears or sex to keep a man. I’m just using herbs and a casserole dish…

“What are you doing?” Adam is standing in the doorway, his eyes dart as I stir the pot. “I’ve packed my bag, it’s by the door,” he says, sternly. “This time I mean it. I’m leaving, I can’t do this anymore.”
“Fine,” I say. I pull open the oven door, fragrant steam escaping in plumes. “But I’ve already made this. Let’s just have dinner first? One last meal together…”
Adam sniffs the air, his arms crossed. “Ok,” he agrees.

We eat in silence. Adam is shoveling food in, like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. “This is good!” He’s almost licking the plate now.
I smile and stand up. “There’s plenty more?”

After helping no. 3, he’s sated.
“That was amazing, Darling.”
I stack the dishes as Adam rubs his eyes.
“I’m beat. Might hit the hay,” he says and stumbles off, towards the bedroom.

A moment later, he calls out, “What’s with the suitcase? Are you taking a trip?”