Synopsis
My husband, Harry Johnson, recently took on a new graduate student—Chloe Atkinson, who proudly called herself a “curious soul.” From the moment she arrived, she crossed every boundary.
The first time we met, she bluntly asked whether I struggled with bladder control after giving birth—and whether Harry felt disgusted being intimate with me.
Soon, her “research” turned into constant clinging. She hovered around Harry, asking to study his physique for academic purposes. In the middle of the night, she would send him photos of lingerie and, with feigned innocence, ask which style a man would find most appealing.
Every time I confronted him, Harry dismissed my concerns. “Chloe’s an orphan,” he said. “You should be more understanding. Don’t take it so personally.”
I endured it. I swallowed my anger again and again.
Until Christmas Eve, at our family dinner—when everything finally shattered.
