He Thought I Would Silently Endure

Mort

door handle, determined to get out of t

or open. He scooped me up again, his grip firm and unyielding, and carried me into the

were clumsy as he unwrapped an ice pack, his fingers fumbling with the bandages. It was clear he'd never done this be

as he wrapped my ankle, his touch surprising

fusing flash of concern. It was a cycle designed to keep me off balance, to make me crave the small crumbs of affecti

ill. The part of me that used to analyze his every mood, that desp

the words polite and

face, clearly expecting something more. A tearful br

e?" I asked, my tone as

ng his brow. "Don't you wan

y head sl

blic account, filled with pictures of her recent travels. She' d

guest room," I announced, p

ifferent, that his usual tactics weren't working. "She needed a job. Her last project

of emotion. I understood busin

a crack in my composure. "That's all it

, hopping on one foo

is touch tentative this

it were a hot iron. "Don't," I sai

r seen me before. In all our years together, through all the silent

ed, his voice tu

to the guest room, shutting the door firmly behind me. I didn't lock

he prestigious firm of Baird & Associates not because I had to, but because I wanted to be near him, to support him. He' d told everyone I was a talente

with the same detached coolness he applied to everyone else, and never, ever acknowledge me as his partner. I had poure

letter held tightly in my hand. The director,

ng you. I'm so sorry to

d. "What

Blake hasn't spoken to you? About the restructuring? Your lead posit

loping the concept, winning over the city council, securing the initial funding. It was the passion pr

ed, my voice a hollo

tion letter. Martha took it, her eyes fill

official memo on her de

belle H

ed wood cold against my clammy hands, the world tilting violently on its axis. He hadn

iven her