“WHERE ARE you going?” Dylan’s voice roared in the hallway on the second floor of their house. Hera squinted her eyes at him and walked closer.

“I thought you already left?” she asked and stop right in front of him.

“Left?”

“And why you didn’t tell me—”

“You don’t want to join my parents for dinner, right? Why should I bother to tell you anyway? Look, Dylan,” Hera pinched the bridge of her nose, “it’s not that we’re going somewhere. I and the kids will just have dinner at my parents’ house,” she explained.

Dylan frowned slightly. “But at least you should tell it—”

“For what? For you to stop...