The Filth He Blamed on Me
I rushed the babies to the nursery first.
It took forever — three tiny humans, three different cries, three different needs hitting at once.
When I finally got them settled and walked into the living room, I froze.
Everything was everywhere.
- Plates crusted with dried food and flies buzzing around them.
- Crumbs ground into the carpet like someone had stomped them in on purpose.
- A hill of empty takeout containers stacked in front of the TV.
- Used toilet paper sitting on the coffee table like it belonged there.
I felt something hot rise in my chest.
Shock, at first.
Then fury.
“Sam!” I yelled.
He didn’t even look up properly.
“What?” he said, bored, like I was interrupting his scrolling.
