She Shattered My Surgical Hands
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Summary
Everyone tells me I’m the luckiest man alive for marrying a woman like Margot.
They see the devoted wife, the powerhouse CEO, the woman who stands by her husband’s bedside with red-rimmed eyes. They don't know that those same hands—the ones currently smoothing my hair—are the ones that systematically destroyed mine.
It happened the day the "prodigal son" returned. Margot’s eyes had been a manic, bloodshot red as she swung the heavy paperweight. She didn't stop until my hands were a pulp of shredded skin and splintered bone.
