My Husband Burned My Hand on the Stove

at a charity gala in Boston tonight; I knew because Daniel had complained about not being invited. I needed them to watch long enough to understand what they were seeing.

So I stayed on the floor and let my husband stand over me with that easy, ugly smile.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” Daniel said.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Louder.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

I continue reading …