𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊

𝙵𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍

♡
2001.
𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗
𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.5k

Tonight marked the highly anticipated first night of Michael's 30th Anniversary Show. Madison Square Garden was abuzz with excitement, as a plethora of stars arrived to show their love and support. Fans from all over the world had gathered, eager to witness Michael and his brothers perform together for the first time in over a decade.

You and Michael had just left the hotel and climbed into the limo. The silence between you was palpable; Michael was clearly furious, and the fact that you were running late only added to his frustration.

"I should have just left with Liz," Michael muttered as he slammed the door shut.

You shot him a glare, raising an eyebrow. "So you'd just leave me here by myself?" you retorted.

Michael shrugged dismissively. "It's your fault we're running late," he said coldly.

"My fault? Michael, it's not my fault you didn't stop Liz from arguing with me. I'm your wife, not some random bitch," you snapped.

Michael turned to face you, his expression hardening. "You started the argument with Liz. Don't put this on me," he said, shaking his head.

"Don't put you in this? Michael, that's your friend. I'm your wife. You should have stopped her, especially after she called me out of my name."

"But you called her a stank," he countered.

"Because she called me a whore, Michael! You heard her and did nothing." You turned to look out the window, arms folded tightly across your chest. "I should have divorced you," you muttered under your breath.

"Pardon?" Michael asked, looking at you with confusion.

"I said," you repeated quietly, turning to face him, "I should have fucking divorced you!"

Michael's eyes widened in shock. "Divorce me? For what? All I've done is love and care for you these past two years. Don't get mad at me," he said defensively.

"I have every reason to be mad, Michael, and I have every reason to want to leave. You're never home. You're always out until the crack of dawn working. You don't make time for me. You're constantly with Liz or calling up Diana every other night while I'm putting your kids to sleep."

"Oh, so now you're blaming this on Diana and Liz?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

"No, I'm blaming this shit on you. You're a lousy husband who doesn't think about his own wife-"

"Can you just shut the hell up, please?!" Michael shouted, his frustration boiling over.

"No, I won't shut the hell up. You're going to let me speak, Michael. I'm your damn wife. I should come before any other woman in your life besides your own mother. You put me below some skin-and-bone bitch with crooked-ass yellow dentures who's been obsessed with you since you were a child. Is that not sinking into that thick skull of yours, or do I need to spell it out for you?"