Eric had been moved to tears back then, gripping my hand tightly. “Thank you, Sophia. I’ll remember your goodness for the rest of my life. I’ll never forget.”
Only a few short years later, Eric had a measure of success and, yes, our life improved—but his temper swelled with it. In his eyes, I couldn’t do anything right.
Any tiny disappointment turned into a stream of insults.
His catchphrase became: “This family only exists because of my hard work. You’re nothing but a glorified nanny!”
He’d always apologize afterward and beg me to forgive him. I’d pretend nothing happened. He never understood: wounds don’t disappear; they only get covered up.
I sighed.
I steadied myself and smiled at Eric. “I’m sorry. I slipped up today. Give me another chance—I won’t make the same mistake.”
He doesn’t even eat eggs. He was just looking for an excuse to lash out. I figured something at work must have gone wrong again.
“What the hell is that attitude, huh?”
Eric wouldn’t let up. He hurled his plate to the floor with a screech.
I stared at his face, twisted by anger.
I stepped forward and swept the rest of the dishes off the table. “If you don’t want to eat, then don’t.”