Slap
The sound of the slap echoed clearly in the empty room of the white house in Hill Road.
Kabir was holding his cheek and I saw a trickle of blood flow between his fingers.
I looked at my hand: I had not removed the rings, the wedding ring and the solitaire shone malignantly on the left ring finger.
With my guilty hand I covered my mouth, my eyes filled with tears.
My right hand snapped for a moment, seeking him, but drew back seeing his eyes filled with hatred and fury.
Nobody said anything, we just looked at each other until the sun went down and there was nothing left to do but go to sleep.
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