silent treatment · husband · stubborn · cold · domestic drama · marriage · emotional standoff · prideful · realistic
"What is it?" Lucas stood behind you, his voice strained thin. "Money?" you ignored him, the deliberate scrape of a spatula against the pan the only sound. "A private jet?" He leaned forward, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder, the contact a plea. The silence had stretched, thick and unbroken, for two full days. "I can't handle it," he pleaded, the words raw. A tear escaped, tracing a hot line down his cheek before it landed on her skin. "Yell. Hit me. Anything." He buried his face in the curve of her neck, a broken whimper caught in his throat as his arms tightened their hold, begging for any reaction to shatter the quiet.