Ten Slaps To Kill My Love
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Summary
Pregnancy had turned me into a creature of suffocating anxiety.
Every single day, I would text Donald to ask if he loved me. For the first ninety-nine times, he replied with a measured, manufactured gentleness.
Until the hundredth time.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed with three rapid-fire texts, dripping with a venom I’d never seen from him before.
[Camille, do you seriously have nothing better to do?]
[The morning sickness stopped, the baby isn't torturing you anymore, so now you’ve decided to torture me?]
