A movement to the side of me jerks me from my sleep. Michael. Through half closed lashes I dare a glance at the alarm clock upon my bedside table. Two thirty-six in the morning. I ponder why he came to bed so late, but the mood I witnessed earlier is enough to not question his choices. I know him well enough to know something is wrong, enough to not anger him any further. I don't want to give him any further motive to attack me. Or worse. I wait, almost expecting him to pull me into him as he drifts off. He doesn't. Instead I can hear the subtle change in his breath, an almost hitch and very quiet sniff. I know he is crying. It's the first time in so long he has appeared human to me. The man beneath the monster he has become. I feel sorry for him. I guess that is why I'm rolling over and embracing him. He needs me. It must be the stress that is making him act in such a Neanderthal manner lately. Yes, of course it is. He's never behaved in such a way before. I should not have passed judgement so quickly. He is my husband. I vowed to love him for better or for worse. How selfish must I be to add further stress when he clearly needs me to help lift him back up. I wrap my arms around him and bury my head into his back.

"I'm sorry Michael"

He does not say anything. He simply grabs my hand and kisses it before we fall asleep.

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