Every morning, Kayla emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a bath towel wrapped around her body.
She would walk through the kitchen while Andrew drank his coffee, stopping to ask him questions or complain about her job search as if she were fully dressed.
The first time, I assumed she’d forgotten to bring her robe.
By the fourth morning, I knew better.
“Kayla, could you put on something before coming downstairs?”
I asked privately.
“It makes me uncomfortable when you walk around like that while Andrew is here.”
She laughed.
“He’s your husband, not some teenage boy.”
“That isn’t the point.
This is my home, and I’m asking you to respect a boundary.”
Her smile sharpened.
“Fine, if you’re that insecure.”
She didn’t stop.
Instead, she began making coffee in her towel, stretching to reach cabinets, and lingering beside Andrew while he worked at the kitchen table.
