I knew I’d done something pretty awful when I had to think so hard to justify something to her. One, for forgetting our anniversary. So, I had brought her a bouquet filled with red and white roses, and a huge box of chocolates to make it up with her, atleast.
I rang the doorbell a few times, as I mumbled to myself about what to say, asking for an apology.
Her hand cracked across my face, snapping it back with the force of the blow, and it had left me a red welt behind.
It startled me a little gasp of pain.
I staggered backwards, clutching my face as I looked at her, “Let’s get inside. Please?” as I handed over the bouquet.
Her eyes squinted when she glared at me, reminding me of a pit viper slit-like pupils.
I gulped nervously.
A burning animosity was developing in her, and I could
