Eight months into the marriage
It was a warm early morning when I woke up to the sound of yelling. Spring had just come. As I stepped into the corridor leading to the living room, a silk robe over my body, the voices echoed.
With slow steps, I went down the stairs, stopping on the last staircase before the doorway to the living room.
I recognized the voices.
"… you don't have a say in anything. You will not talk about her, you will not breathe her name. She is my responsibility and I will take care of it. If you as much as try anything, then you'll know how cruel I can be."
Christian's voice raised with every syllable. I could hear the anger in every word.
It shocked me. How could he talk to his mother this way?
"How can you talk to me like that? I'm your mother. I'm doing this for the sake of the company."
Christian laughed, a pained laughter that lacked excitement, filled with only anger.
