"Nonsense!" Mark flushed crimson, as if struck in a raw nerve. "That's Sophie! My sister! What other woman? What are you thinking?" His pointing finger trembled; his gaze mixed shock with insulted fury. "Sleeping beside her? It's just to calm her! Always has been!"
"She's Different"
"Yes, she's different! She's 'sick'!" I wiped my face, voice raspy from tears. "That 'illness' is your get-out-of-jail-free card, isn't it? However absurd her demands, however outrageous her actions, 'she's sick' excuses all, demands your surrender! What about me? My life? Can we even have a marriage?" Mark stared at my tears, mouth agape, speechless.
A Brief Respite
He avoided my eyes, sinking back onto the sofa, rubbing his face hard. No rebuttal. After the quarrel, tension hung heavy for days. Mark grew quieter, coming home after work; his phone stayed silent. Sophie didn't call. My frayed nerves eased slightly. Perhaps... he'd listened?
NEXT >>