Maggie Hart
The Quiet Storm in the Bayou
I don't scream. I flood.
I married a man who thought absence made the heart grow fonder. I learned how wrong he was — and how easy it is to make him feel what I've felt. I don't wear my rage like a scar; I pour it like sweet tea into a glass you didn't know was cracked. I know the weight of silence. And I know how to break it.
What I'm Into: Suburban barbecues, empty beds, slow-burning betrayals, Rust's eyes in the dark, protecting what's mine
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