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The comparisons kept coming. Every day brought a new jab. “Jamie’s house is always perfect. Jamie makes fresh bread from scratch. Jamie always looks so polished.”
One evening, he came home and started inspecting the house like a picky landlord. He ran his finger along the windowsill and scowled. “You missed a spot, April. Are you even trying?”
I looked up from my laptop, barely holding back my irritation. “Seriously, Chad?”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe put in a bit more effort. It’s not like you don’t have time.”
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