The glass splintered into a massive spiderweb of fractures radiating from the point of impact.
I flinched and jerked the wheel. The left side of my car ground against the guardrail, showering sparks, the shriek of metal on metal lasting a full ten seconds before I finally snapped back to my senses.
I gripped the wheel with both hands and straightened the car out.
Gretchen's voice tore through the phone, raw with fury.
"You actually had the nerve to photoshop a picture to scare me?"
"Clarence, there is nothing between me and Cecil. I've told you a thousand times. Stop running to my father every time you have some petty grievance!"
"I warned you. My father has a bad heart. He can't handle your jealous, small-minded drama!"
The injustice burned through me. Her father had seen the photos she posted on her Instagram story, the ones of her looking far too cozy with Cecil. He knew we'd been fighting. That was why he'd come to see us quietly, to smooth things over.
A memory surfaced unbidden. Our wedding day. The aisle blanketed in flowers.
Gretchen had held my hand, eyes brimming with emotion, and spoken her vows to me.