1
Kat
Dust coats the floor underneath the liquor cabinet, and I try to remember the last time I cleaned under there. This past fall, maybe?
I need to clean that before Zack notices.
While I’m staring at the dirty floor, light glints off of something nearby, drawing my attention to a piece of broken glass, with more shards scattered nearby.
Shit, I need to pick that up too.
But it isn’t just dust and glass. The entire dining room has been destroyed. Impulsively, I start making a list of what needs to be cleaned, but there is an incessant pounding and yelling at the door that is making it difficult to concentrate.
Maybe the neighbor’s kid locked himself out again.
It takes another minute to realize the banging and desperate shouts aren’t coming from my neighbor’s house, but mine. Yet, I can’t find the strength to move, or even care. A dull throb pulses through my temple in time with the person pounding at the door.
My fingers flex against the hardwood floor, though I’m not entirely sure how I ended up here, laying in the threshold between the kitchen and dining room.
I try to push myself up, but the movement causes my muscles to bark in protest as the room spins, forcing me to clamp my eyes shut in hopes of combatting the building nausea. Each slow breath feels like a chore. When I feel brave enough to try again, I peel my eyes open, spotting the dining room chair on its side.
Everything comes flooding back in one devastating wave.
None of this was supposed to happen.
My husband wasn’t supposed to be home so early last night. He stormed out before dinner, claiming he had to take care of some business, and that I shouldn’t expect him home anytime soon.
But when he showed up two hours later, reeking of vodka, and saw my suitcase sitting in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs…he snapped. Again.
I almost didn’t feel the first hit. After the past year of experiencing Zack’s anger, my pain tolerance has definitely grown. He was normally smart about where he struck, making sure if he was leaving his mark, it was somewhere easily covered by clothes. Maybe it was the alcohol that made him forget to be strategic last night, but this time was different.
It wasn’t always like this.
Zackwasn’t always like this.
When we met two years ago, I thought he was the sweetest man I’d ever encountered. He charmed, wooed, and swept me off my feet so quickly that I didn’t even have time to think.
He proposed after six months, at a beautiful gala that his family hosts every year. It was the first time my family and I had been to such an extravagant event. And when Zack got down on one knee, I immediately found my parents in the crowd. My mom was tearing up as she latched onto my father, who for once, looked as if he was proud of me.
I said yes without thinking twice.
Of course, after the moment had passed, my parents treated the rest of the evening like a business opportunity. My dad spent the time setting up meetings while my mom schmoozed the next potential partner to help get his business off the ground and I spent the night helping where I could. Both with my dad’s business and hyping up my newfiancéwhenever the opportunity presented itself.
But the business stuff didn’t matter. The man of my dreams had still proposed to me, and I was ecstatic. The image of Zack’s slicked back blond hair, blue eyes glittering in the lights as he smiled up at me feels like it’s forever burned into my mind. At that moment, I truly believed that helovedme.
Everyone was over the moon for us.
Well, everyone except my older brother Alan.
Alan was a combat medic in the army and had been deployed overseas when I started dating Zack. When I told my brother that I was falling for Zack, his only request was that I take it slow and not commit to anything serious. At least until he was home to meet the guy, who he claimed would never be good enough for his little sister.
So, Alan definitely wasn’t thrilled when I video called to tell him about the engagement. And when my dad piped in, claiming that he approved of Zack, my brother was hearing none of it. Instead, he told my dad he was being a “blind idiot” for letting a man propose to his only daughter after only six months.
I didn’t want them fighting because of me, especially when we were supposed to be celebrating. Instead, I shrugged it off and told him he was being overprotective for no reason.
Then married Zack one month later.
However, when Alan came home at the end of his deployment the next month, I invited him to dinner so he could finally meet my new husband. But it wasn’t pretty.
