“Do you?” she says, her volume increasing. “Do you have any idea how confused and horrible I feel, being mad at you after the day you had? How guilty I feel? And now, after this morning…” her voice shakes, eyes crinkling shut. Sobs threaten to bubble forth, as treacherously as before… or more so. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”
A relic of the man I used to be, the persona I once maintained with utmost efficacy, nags at me with a fierceness I’d not experienced since… I perish the thought. But I feel what’s happening. She’s begun to spiral, my dear, sweet wife, my best friend, my reason for living… and I realize in that moment that I may hold the key to pulling her back from the edge. “Abigail Rose, don’t you dare start this again,” I command her, pulling her to me, tightly, almost painful
