Why I Cheered When My Husband Cheated

Chapter 5

I fought Hank with everything I had.

His expression twisted in rage, and the next thing I knew, he slapped me, once, then again. My ears rang, my vision blurred with stars, and just like that, my heart dropped.

In all our years together, even if our love had faded, Hank had never raised a hand to me.

My shirt was torn, the cold air stinging my exposed skin, and that sudden chill snapped me back to reality.

I slapped him hard across the face. While he reeled from the shock, I grabbed the ceramic vase off the nightstand and smashed it against his head.

He stumbled, then collapsed to the floor beside the bed.

Fighting back tears, I jumped up and made a run for the door. But he wasn't done. He reached out and grabbed my arm.

"Don't go," he begged, breathless. "I won't touch you again. Just don't go…"

The chaos must've been loud enough to reach our parents, because not long after, they showed up, and so did the private doctor.

Once the bandages were in place and the room finally quieted down, Maria raised her hand to slap Hank.

She stopped short, her fingers trembling. "If your head wasn't already split open, I swear to God I'd beat the crap out of you right now."

Hank just sat there, eyes cast downward, silent.

My mom pulled me into her arms. She reached for my face, then stopped, hesitating. It was swollen from his slaps.

My dad sat down, lit a cigarette, took a long, slow drag, then crushed it out in the ashtray.

"We're done here," he said coldly. "I won't let my daughter go through this. We're settling the divorce today. Yara's coming home with me."

At that, Hank suddenly looked up, panicked, and dropped to his knees in front of my dad.

"We can't get divorced. I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing. I was scared she'd leave me. Please, Mr. Pierce, I'm begging you. Just give me one more chance."

He began slamming his forehead against the floor, over and over, reopening the fresh wound under his bandage. Blood started seeping through again.

Howard rushed forward to pull Hank back. "John, come on. Our families have been close for decades. You watched my boy grow up, how can you be this cold-hearted?"

He gestured toward Hank, who was now bleeding all over the carpet. "Look at him! He's already hurt this bad. What's wrong with letting him try again?"

My father stood, voice raised. "He hit my daughter. How do you expect me to trust you to protect her now?"

Howard scoffed. "He was drunk! Besides, if Yara hadn't pushed for a divorce, would he have acted like that in the first place?"

Hearing that, my head throbbed. I suddenly saw their true colors.

All those years I thought they cared about me like family, but now that things got ugly, the lines had been drawn.

I tugged lightly on my mom's sleeve and whispered, "Mom... I don't feel good. Can we go? Please ask Dad to stop arguing. I just want to go home."

She looked at me, heartbroken, and nodded. Then she gave my dad a sharp nudge with her foot to signal it was time to leave.

But Hank wasn't finished. He latched onto my arm again, clinging like a child.

"Don't go," he pleaded, voice cracking. "Please, Yara. Don't leave me…"