Eight Years of Gilded Cage

usband, Mark Johnson, wasn't home. I knew where he

ived in this silence, this gilded cage. I had endured his indifference, his neglect, and the constant, subtle cruel

gh to count. He always had an excuse, a business meeting, a trip he couldn't get out of. But I

of disappointment, it all came to a head. I felt a deep, simmering a

the quiet house. Mark stumbled in, his expensive suit rumpled. The cloy

r and scowled, his fa

g in the dark, Ava? Trying

oked at him. "Do you kno

and. "I'm not in the mo

my voice flat, devoid of the emo

rprise, maybe guilt-crossing his face before it va

know you were busy celebrating Chloe's birthday. She posted a pi

s so-called "one true love," the woman he never g

social media now? T

ther woman's birthday on our wedding anniversa

"At least she's fun to be around. She doesn

ffee table and picked up a small, velvet box. I had bought him a w

a divorc

He looked genuinely shocked, as if t

Don't be r

. And there's something else you should know." I took

n instant. The color drained from his chee

is voice low and dangerous.

clamps on my shoulders. I stumbled backward, my feet tangling in the rug. I fell, my back hitting the sh

arm, wet sensation spread through my dre

world spinning. "The

n at the blood, and for a second, I thought I saw a flicker of fear. But it

, the pain making it har

icked up the velvet box containing the watch I had bought for him. He

ur ticket out?" he sneered. "You're pat

. He just turned around and walked out the door, leaving me bleeding on the flo

ing compared to the agony in my heart. Eight years. I had given him eight years of my life. I h

with love, a room that now felt like a tomb. There were no photos of us. Not a single one. In eight years, we had never taken a hap