where I didn’t realise, I made my first mistake.
When we got home, I realised what I had done wrong in my husband’s eyes. I had dared to glance and communicate with the waiter about my order. I had dared to look his way and speak about how I had wanted my meat to be cooked and for that minor mistake I got the beating of my life.
When was this going to change?
When would the hate turn back to love?
Was I going to continue living my life in fear like this or was there a way out?
Would I make my way out in a harmonious way, or in a body bag?
One morning when he had gone to work, I sat there staring at our wedding photographs. I barely recognized myself. I was glowing in the photographs and now I didn’t