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“You’re really about to lose your wife cause you don’t know how to listen?”
Kensa just wants to be heard, and taken care of. Whatever that means for her.
Maybe it’s not all on you, maybe she’s wrong too. Hell, maybe she’s more wrong–who gives a fuck? That’s your wife.”
I wasn’t sure she believed it, but when my wife wasn’t happy, neither was I.
“I said ’til death do us part, and I meant that shit. I’m not interested in running away just because it’s getting a little grimy instead of the picture perfect, squeaky clean existence you’re looking for. We haven’t even tried to muddle through it, and yet you’re in my face talking about we’re done. Ain’t no done, Kensa!” he asserted, with a harsh growl in his tone. “You are my wife, and nothing about that has changed. Whatever shit we gotta deal with, buckle up sweetheart and let’s do it. But what’s not about to happen is you walking away from me like those vows didn’t mean shit.”
Grief was a raggedy bitch who lived for drama.
