By Nicole Nixon
Sometimes I hated him.
The way he’d pause when I said something wrong, did something bad, existed incorrectly. He’d stop, look at me, his eyes narrowing to slits of anger. His fists would clench. The veins in his temples would pulse. The release of tension—a blow, shouted words, our possessions shattering on the floor—was a relief. Nothing was worse than that first horrible pause.
Then he’d slip into bed with kisses and apologies. Bring me flowers. Plan a beautiful day. And I forgave him. Until I couldn’t anymore.
I loved him. I did. But I loved our daughter more.
this made me tear up omg….
I would describe this as a way to give the message behind It Ends with Us (aka none of this has happened to me lol, don’t worry)
So glad for that clarification.
Good imagery; can’t wait to read the book!
This was painful to read… so honest…
You made me see it. Triggered childhood trauma except we didn’t get out.
We forgive, forgive, forgive until we can’t anymore.
Great. Did a good job of hitting strong emotions and summing up a relationship. And a possibly upbeat meaning.