For me, having a child was optional. A part of me didn’t really mind if we didn’t. But my family? They were relentless.
Besides, seeing the neighbor’s adorable little daughter had planted a small seed of doubt in my mind.
But Spencer? He seemed to hate me for it.
One night, he grabbed my shoulder, his grip tight.
"Tiffany Quinn!" he hissed through clenched teeth, "Was this your idea? Speak!"
Pain shot through me as his fingers dug into my skin. I winced, twisting away from him, but before I could respond, he shoved me down onto the bed.
"Speak!" he demanded, his voice rising with each word. "Are you deaf? I’ve told you it's not the right time to have a child!"
I was stunned. Tears welled up in my eyes as I lay there, staring at the ceiling.
"Spencer," I whispered through trembling lips, "If I told you this wasn’t my idea, would you believe me?"
This wasn’t the Spencer I knew, or thought I knew. He was supposed to be gentle and kind, not this cruel man looming over me, his newlywed wife.
Slap!
He leaned over and gave me a loud slap and the whole bedroom echoed.