One year ago, May 2019
The crashing sound of glass reverberated through the whole house.
The both of them started; stared at the shards from the broken glass; then switched to staring at each other once more as silence reigned.
She was the first to recover. Her eyes took on a glassy sheen. "Baby why?" she asked, her voice laden with deep-cutting anguish.
"Why?" she asked again, so passionately that her voice cracked on the one syllable.
Looking at her like this almost weakened his defences. He wanted to gather her in his arms and soothe her pain.
But not this time. Since, like the many other times, he was the cause of her pain. He was the one that forced the anguish on her expression. Because he was such a screw-up.
More than the fiery rage that coursed through him, hot shame branded every inch of his being. He hated it. He could feel it burning into his body and he wanted nothing more than to escape the horrid feeling.
She was looking at him expectantly now, waiting for him to deny it. Waiting for him to come up with a worthy excuse.
Well, he couldn't. Not this time.
He sank into the wine sofa and held his head in his hands. "Answer me!" she screamed at him, in a tearful rage.
His defences had gone up. He was on a mission to protect himself now, no longer caring about any other thing.
She noticed it too, in the hardening of his expressive eyes.
"Leave me alone. Just forget about it," he told her, his voice empty. Monotone and detached, that was how it sounded.
She wanted to back down, let him have his way like she always did. But, for their own sakes, she knew she couldn't.
They'd been married five years, and she wasn't any closer to getting through to him. She wasn't any closer to breaking his sky high walls.
She would have let this battle go unfought, but she knew that there was much more at stake here. They couldn't continue like this any longer. No more.
She forced herself to stay strong and steeled her voice, "I can't leave it alone Sope. Why is this prescription bottle still full? You need this stuff! Don't you want to get better?" she asked with a gentle disposition while waving around the little bottle of pills.
"I said you should let it rest. I don't want to take it, and I don't want to. That's all there is to it," he replied, looking everywhere but at her.
She stared at him for a long time, without saying a word. She asked him a question: "Sope do you love me?"
Women. He didn't even the understand the relevance of her question to their conversation, or to be more exact, argument. If only to get her off his back and to end the bout of nagging that was about to erupt, he decided to reply.
He still didn't look at her: "Of course I do. Is that even a question?"
"Sope look at me! Look into my eyes," she said through gritted teeth, biting her lips so hard that it drew blood.
He switched his gaze to her and took her in. From bottom to top. Slowly raking over her long legs, thicker waist and midsection, pudgy belly, all the way to her perfect nose.
His gaze stopped there. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Well, he didn't want to look into her eyes. He couldn't look at her and behold the disappointment sure to be waiting for him there.
YOU ARE READING
The Bridge|| Completed✓
General Fiction"Can I help you ma?" He asked. His voice was scratchy and low and his tone rang out as sarcastic. "What do you mean by 'Can I help you ma?'" she asked him in incredulity. "I said what I said. Now what exactly is your problem?" He asked, obviously no...
