Wedding planning has been stressful.
Between classes, friends, family opinions, and expectations, everything’s been building.
Tonight it finally spills over.
Something small.
Bachelor party versus bridal party plans.
Different expectations. Different ideas.
It turns into a real argument.
And instead of raising her voice—
She does what she always does when she’s frustrated.
She talks down.
⸻
The apartment is quiet except for your voices.
You’re standing near the kitchen counter.
She’s across from you, arms crossed.
“I already told you I don’t like that idea,” you say.
“And I already told you it’s not a big deal,” she replies calmly.
“It is to me.”
She exhales slowly.
Then tilts her head slightly.
“There you go again.”
Your eyebrows lift.
“What does that mean.”
“You take something small and make it bigger than it needs to be.”
Your chest tightens.
“I’m not making it bigger.”
“You are.”
Her tone stays even.
Too even.
Like she’s explaining something obvious.
You shake your head.
“You’re not even listening to me.”
“I am listening.”
“Then act like it.”
She steps a little closer.
Not aggressive.
Just enough to close the space.
“I am,” she says calmly.
“You’re just not hearing what you want to hear.”
Your frustration spikes.
“Why are you talking to me like that.”
“Like what.”
“Like I’m a child.”
Her brows pull together slightly.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
She tilts her head again.
Studying you.
“You’re getting worked up.”
Your hands clench at your sides.
“Because you keep doing that.”
“Doing what.”
“That tone.”
Her voice stays level.
“This tone?”
You let out a frustrated breath.
“Yes.”
She nods slowly.
“Maybe if you slowed down and actually thought about what you were saying—”
“Stop.”
She pauses.
You step back slightly.
“Stop talking to me like that.”
“Like what.”
“Like I’m stupid.”
Her expression tightens just a little.
“I never said you were stupid.”
“You don’t have to.”
Your voice raises now.
“You talk like I don’t know anything.”
Her gaze sharpens slightly.
“Because right now you’re not thinking clearly.”