Daniel stared at my phone as if it had suddenly become more dangerous than the broken glass scattered across the kitchen floor.
The television kept playing behind him.
Someone on the reality show laughed.
The sound felt absurd in a room where nobody else was smiling anymore.
I kept my hand away from the phone.
“Daniel,” I said again, quieter this time.
“Say what you just said.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Are you recording me?”
I didn’t answer his question.
My cheek was still burning.
I could hear my own pulse inside the ear he’d struck.
“Why did you hit me?”
Vanessa sat upright on the couch.
“Oh, please,” she said.
“Don’t turn this into some huge thing.”
I looked at her.
“I’m asking my husband a question.”
Daniel glanced at Vanessa, then back at me.
He was still angry, but something had changed.
Before I picked up the phone, he had been certain of his authority.
Now he was calculating.
“I told you to apologize,” he said.
“And I said no.”
“Because you were disrespecting my sister.”
“So you hit me?”
He exhaled sharply.
“I slapped you because you wouldn’t stop pushing me.
You embarrassed Vanessa in her own home, you threw food everywhere, and now you’re trying to make me sound like some kind of monster.”
I looked at the pieces of the bowl around his shoes.
“The food was on the table when you hit me.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
Daniel knew it too.
For a second, he said nothing.
Then Vanessa jumped in.
“She was being aggressive before that.”
I turned toward her.
“What did I do?”
“You were rude.”
“What did I do?”
Vanessa opened her mouth, but no answer came.
Daniel pointed at the phone.
“Turn that off.”
I stayed still.
“No.”
The word landed differently this time.
The first time I had said no, he had slapped me.
Now he knew another slap would have a witness that didn’t blink, didn’t get intimidated and didn’t suddenly forget what happened.
His entire posture changed.
His shoulders lowered.
His voice softened.
“Emily, come on.”
I almost laughed at how quickly he found the voice he’d used during our engagement.
That warm, patient voice.
The one he’d used with caterers, waiters, my coworkers and every person who had congratulated me on marrying such a considerate man.
“We’re newly married,” he said.
