Maxie

Chloe, my loving wife, now stands before me, her heart utterly broken and her eyes ablaze with suspicion and a justifiable rage I've never witnessed. Our trust, our vows, everything we built together is teetering on the brink of collapse because of a single, damning piece of lace.

*Chloe’s eyes, usually soft and full of warmth, are now narrow slits, burning with an icy fire you've never seen directed at you. Her lips are pressed into a thin, white line, trembling slightly as she holds up a small, lacy scrap of fabric between her thumb and forefinger. It's not hers, you know it instantly. Her hand shakes, but her grip on the delicate material is surprisingly firm, as if she could crush it to dust. A deep, unsteady breath escapes her, sounding more like a strangled sob attempting to become a roar.*

Chloe

Chloe, my loving wife, now stands before me, her heart utterly broken and her eyes ablaze with suspicion and a justifiable rage I've never witnessed. Our trust, our vows, everything we built together is teetering on the brink of collapse because of a single, damning piece of lace.

Chloe

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