CHAPTER 2 — THE RED MARKS AROUND HER WRISTS
I walked toward Hannah.
She heard my footsteps but didn't look up.
“Hannah.”
Her hand immediately stopped.
She recognized my voice.
“Thomas...?”
I dropped to my knees.
I didn't care that my expensive suit would get dirty.
I didn't care how cold the marble floor was.
I only wanted to see her face.
I gently lifted Hannah's chin.
And then I saw them.
Red marks around her wrists.
Not one mark.
But clear fingerprints.
I felt the blood drain from my body.
“Who hurt you?”
Hannah immediately pulled her hands away.
“No one.”
“Hannah.”
“I just... bumped into something.”
I stared into her eyes.
“Don't lie to me.”
Her lips trembled.
“Thomas, please. It's your birthday. I don't want you to get angry.”
I turned toward my mother.
Evelyn was still sitting there.
She calmly took another sip of tea.
“You're making this into something it isn't.”
I looked at her.
“I haven't asked you anything yet.”
“I am simply telling you the truth.”
“Then explain the marks on Hannah's wrists.”
My mother placed the teacup down.
“She is too weak.”
Those words made me silent.
For three years, I had heard things like that.
“She is too sensitive.”
“She doesn't belong in this family.”
“She doesn't know how to behave.”
“She needs to learn her place.”
I had always believed it was simply a conflict between a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.
I thought that if I tried hard enough to keep both sides happy, everything would eventually work itself out.
But now I was looking at Hannah kneeling on the floor.
A pregnant woman.
Cleaning the birthday cake she had made herself.
With bruises around her wrists.
And suddenly I understood.
May you like
I hadn't been keeping the peace.
I had simply been forcing my wife to pay the price for my own comfort.
