One hundred and five

Counting doesn't work. Walking also fails. Sleep has fled from me. I retire to the bed, lying on my side while staring wide-eyed into the darkness with the cover tucked under my chin. We have had our quarrels but I never had to sleep alone when he is around.

Tears silently roll down my cheeks, I stiffen when the cover is lifted and a firm chest presses into my back. I maintain my frigidity when he spoons me, placing a hand on my hip. Soaking the pillow with my tears, I dig my nails into my palm to stop from sniffing. Brandon doesn't need to know how much his actions hurt me, he is a terrible husband.

Thankful for the darkness hiding my face when his fingers brush my wet cheek, I freeze. "Wifey, stop crying. It's not good for our baby." He wipes my residue tears. "El, please."

"You left me."

Breathing heavily on my neck, Brandon leans over to place a kiss on my forehead. And I have to squeeze my eyes shut to rein my