|Image found at The Pink Papers|
I sit and wait for him. He sounded so unhappy when we'd talked earlier. I know I'm really in for it now. My feet shift as my mind drifts to what's to come. I hear him come through the front door. Minutes seem like hours before he finally enters the room.
He sits beside me and takes my hand in his. When he speaks his voice is low and controlled. "What were you thinking texting while driving? You could have really hurt someone or harmed yourself."
"It was just a fender bender. Noone got hurt," I half-heartedly say.
He holds my hand tighter and looks into my eyes. "I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you," he says softly.
"I'm so sorry and I hate that I've made you mad at me."
"I'm not mad," he sighs, "I'm disappointed in you."
Those words cut like a knife through my heart. A lump grows in my throat as tears fall silently down my cheeks. There is no worse thing that he could possibly say. Be mad at me. Scold me. Punish me. But the disappointment, I cannot take.