James's eyes narrowed, a clear sign he was ticked off.
"I can explain."
Staring at him, all I felt was this deep, bitter ache.
It's pointless to bang your head against a wall you can't break through.
"James, let's just get a divorce."
James froze, then in disbelief, grabbed my neck and shoved me onto the sofa, "Dare to say that again?"
"Without me, you'd be nowhere!"
Say it a hundred times, it'd still be the same.
But right then, I stayed silent, scared he might actually choke me out.
James's mood swings were off the charts; he'd do anything to get his way.
Struggling to breathe, my nails dug into his arms, drawing blood.
Suddenly, he let go of my neck.
After what felt like forever, he slumped against my shoulder.
"Grace, I'm sorry."
"We'll talk another time."
He tossed the cake into the trash from the coffee table in one smooth move.
Gasping for air, I watched him storm out and slam the door behind him.
Just like that, again.
Every time things go south, he's the one who calls it quits. He drives me mad, then plays the peacemaker.
Maybe I'm just a glass of water for James to quench his thirst on his journey.
So he doesn't really care how I feel.