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Maggie comes home from a party still buzzing, heels clicking softly, when the lights snap on and she freezes. Jerry is there — her son-in-law who clearly forgot his place — demanding answers, trying to cross-examine her night like he has any right. The shock turns to heat fast. Who does he think he is to question her movements, her time, her life?
Later, there’s a knock. His tone is different now. Quieter. Apologetic. Maggie doesn’t rush. She’s busy peeling off her stockings, slipping out of her stilettos, reclaiming the night on her own terms. Jerry’s eyes betray him — drawn to the discarded fabric, the elegant footwear, the evidence of a night he wasn’t part of. She notices. She lets the moment linger just long enough to remind him exactly who holds the power here.