Now was my chance. An entire lifetime hinging on this moment. Since childhood, he'd been my tormentor, my abuser, my most detested foe. He'd taken girlfriends, cheated on assignments, stolen jobs, set me up to take the heat for things he'd done. I'd forgiven him, publicly. But the hatred seethed in me, and this last transgression topped them all. He wasn't coming back from this one, whatever it took on my part.
My wife sat there coolly, still as a mouse under the roving gaze of an owl on the hunt. My eyes grazed over her voluptuous curves for a moment as I considered what I had to say. She looked beautiful, as ever. And untouchable.
Then he reached over and casually put his hand on her bare thigh, in plain, obvious view. Thumb and forefinger dug dimples into her porcelain flesh, almost cruelly, possessively. She winced. A crooked grin stole over his craggy, ruggedly handsome features.
And something inside me snapped.
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