I gave my wife a disgusted look as she quickly retreated to the bed like my words had wounded her. Would it hurt for her to argue back once in a while? Give me something to work with? Instead, she grew more pathetic as she aged. I shook my head in disappointment. "Grow a backbone, Leila." I snapped, walking from the room and toward the staircase, desperately needing some space from her. But the moment I cross the landing, I am struck by a painful shot to my chest...
With instinct my hand darts to the spot upon my chest where I can feel the pain, expecting to find blood, but look down, and there was nothing there. Of course there wasn't, I told myself calmly. Leila did not have the guts for killing me. She had tolerated everything over the years. A worthless argument now was not going to be the thing that changed that.
