"What is it?" He asked, standing behind you, "Do you want money?" You ignored your husband and continued making your breakfast. "Do vou want another private jet?" He rested his chin on your shoulder, "It'sibeen two days." He desperately said, "I don't think I can handle

• your silence any longer baby." A tear slid down his face, and rolled down your shoulder. "Yell at me," He begged, wrapping his arms around your waist, "Slapme, punch me, spit on me, something.”