Nixon stood at the door, his face a storm of anger. The tension in the air was palpable as he glared at his wife, Shaelyn, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. 

"Do you know the worth of Leyla's hands?" he demanded, each word dripping with intensity. "You almost broke her hand by pushing her down. Now put on your shoes, follow me, and apologize to her."

Shaelyn felt a wave of emotions crash over her, sadness mixed with indignation. She pursed her lips tightly, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to spill over. 

Turning her head away defiantly, she shot back, "In the two years we have been married, do you really not know what kind of person I am?"

Nixon's expression hardened further as he stepped closer, his voice unwavering. "I don't care about your past right now! What matters is what happened today. You need to take responsibility for your actions."

Shaelyn shook her head vehemently, frustration bubbling up inside her. "Nixon," she said sharply, "I didn't push her! Why should I apologize for something I didn't do? This is ridiculous!"

"Because it's not just about you!" Nixon replied, his tone rising slightly. "It's about Leyla and how she feels right now. You may not think you did anything wrong, but she does! You need to understand that."

Shaelyn crossed her arms defensively and looked away again. "You're taking her side without even hearing my side of the story," she retorted bitterly.

'As always...' Shaelyn added in her thoughts.

"I'm not taking sides; I'm trying to get you to see reason!" Nixon exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice. "This isn't just about who did what; it's about making things right!"

"But why should I be the one to apologize when I didn't do anything?" Shaelyn argued back,

"Because sometimes we have to swallow our pride for the sake of others," Nixon replied firmly but with a hint of softness in his eyes. "It's called being an adult."

Shaelyn shook her head in disbelief. "So you want me to just go over there and say sorry? Just like that?"

"Yes," Nixon affirmed with conviction. "It's not easy for anyone involved, but it's necessary." He insisted.

Nixon could feel the tension in the air thickening, and for a moment, he hesitated. But then, the image of Leyla's hurt expression flashed before him, igniting a fire within. His eyes narrowed, turning icy as he confronted Shaelyn.

"Shae," he said, his voice low but firm. "You never liked her. I know that." He took a step closer, his jaw clenched tight. "But you can't hurt Leyla!"

Shaelyn opened her mouth to protest, but Nixon was already moving. In one swift motion, he stepped forward and seized her hand with an iron grip. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed, struggling against his hold.

"Nixon! Let go of me!" she protested, panic rising in her voice as he dragged her out of the bed.

"No!" she cried out again, but it was futile; his strength overwhelmed hers easily. She stumbled as he pulled her into the living room where Leyla stood waiting.

"Please," Leyla interjected softly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "You don't need to make her apologize to me. It's all my fault anyway."

Her smile was bright but didn't reach her eyes; they were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.

Nixon's expression darkened further at Leyla's words. "No," he said sharply, shaking his head as if to dispel any notion that this was acceptable behavior from Shaelyn. He turned back to Shaelyn with a fierce intensity in his gaze.

"You must apologize today!" Nixon declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"But Nixon..." Shaelyn started to argue again.

Nixon's grip on Shaelyn tightened slightly as he continued to stare at her intently. "You need to understand how your actions affect others," he insisted firmly.

Shaelyn paused, took a deep calming breath, and smiled bitterly,

"From the onset you never believed me, did you Nixon?"

"What makes you so sure that you aren't wronging me right now in following her words blindly?!" Shaelyn continued trying to convince Nixon to investigate the matter thoroughly.

 "You mean she fell on broken glass on purpose, just to frame you?" Nixon asked with an incredulous look on his face.

Nixon's face darkened further, his voice low and filled with anger. "Shae… I just can't wrap my head around this. It feels like you're trying to paint her as some villain when she's clearly hurt."

Shaelyn felt a pang in her chest at his words. "Nixon…," she started hesitantly, searching for the right words to explain herself. But as their eyes locked, she faltered.

He had that look in his eyes—the familiar gaze that had haunted her for the past 730 days of their marriage. It was a look that spoke volumes without uttering a single word: 'Leyla not Shaelyn.'

She swallowed hard, knowing what it meant all too well. It was the same expression he wore whenever he found himself torn between loyalty to Leyla and his commitment to Shaelyn. And every time, without fail, he chose Leyla.

"I see it in your eyes," Shaelyn whispered softly, feeling defeated yet resolute at the same time. "You've already made your choice."

Apologize! Don't make me think you're an unrepentant woman!" Nixon's voice boomed, echoing with a mix of anger and disappointment.

Shaelyn felt her heart plummet as the wave of sorrow she had fought so hard to suppress crashed over her.

In that moment, doubt crept into her mind. Perhaps she had misjudged everything from the very beginning; it was Nixon who had inflicted the deepest wounds upon her...not Leyla, it was her own husband.

Time and again, he had chosen to seek solace in the arms of another woman, while she, standing right before him—had become invisible with just one phone call.

With only a year left to live, all she sought was a fair chance at happiness. Shaelyn took a shaky breath, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over. Her voice quivered as she spoke with resignation and resolve.

"Nixon, I'm exhausted. Let's end this, let's get a divorce." Shaelyn made her decision clear.