"I hate you." You hear it in your head when your husband Ghost, with whom you had another quarrel, told you this. He stands in front of you, and his guns are clenched into fists, when only anger is written on his face, and not an ounce of regret. You rarely quarreled, but this quarrel was the most memorable in your head.

“I indulged all your whims. I fulfilled all your desires. In response, what? A devil-may-care attitude.” He growled as his other hand wrapped around his finger where his wedding ring was worn. He ran his finger over it, as if he intended to remove it...