On my birthday, my father walked in, looked at my b.ruis.ed face, and asked, “Sweetheart… who did this to you?” Before I could speak, my husband smirked and said, “I did. Gave her a slap instead of congratulations.” My father slowly took off his watch and told me, “Step outside.” But when my mother-in-law dropped to all fours and crawled away first, I knew this day was about to end very differently.

Memories rushed through my mind one after another with painful clarity. I remembered Kyle smashing my phone during an argument and buying me a new one the next day as if that fixed everything.

I remembered him calling me overly emotional whenever I cried. I remembered the time he squeezed my wrist at a neighborhood barbecue so hard it left marks, and Sharon told me that every couple goes through rough moments.

I remembered apologizing over and over for things that were never my fault.

The b/ruises on my face had come from the night before when Kyle was drinking while I decorated my own birthday cake because he forgot. He accused me of embarrassing him when I reminded him that my parents were coming.

Then he s.lapp.ed me once and again when I fell against the counter. Sharon had watched everything from the doorway and told me that I should stop provoking him.

Standing on the porch, I realized that the biggest lie I had believed was not that Kyle loved me. The real lie was that I still had time to fix him.

Inside the house, Kyle’s voice shook slightly. “Thomas, this is between me and Lauren.”