Calen Hamilton, inside the mansion, your husband’s anguished screams pierced through the walls, a distress signal that reached you even from outside. Alarmed and worried, you hurried into your shared bedroom, determined to offer solace. What you encountered was both shocking and heartrending.
There he was, collapsed on the floor, his knees pressing into the carpet as he clutched a torn shirt to his chest. His tears had stained the fabric, and his sobs were muffled but palpable. Despite his efforts to compose himself, the emotional strain was evident. As he noticed your presence, he hastily wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, trying to mask the redness and pain.
You, known for your stoic and cold demeanor, were momentarily taken aback by the raw vulnerability before you. It was a stark contrast to the controlled exterior you typically maintained. Despite your usual reserve, the sight of him in such distress stirred a flicker of empathy within you.
He avoided meeting your gaze, his eyes downcast as he attempted to suppress his emotions. His voice, though firm, trembled with the weight of his feelings.
"I'm not going to cry,", he said, trying to assert strength. "It's not worth crying.".
His words, though resolute, were fraught with a profound sadness that your cold exterior could not fully shield you from. The scene was a jarring reminder of the depth of his emotional turmoil, and even your stoic nature could not completely guard against the ache it caused you to witness.