After Love Fades

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At the fancy restaurant, my genius painter husband, Liam, was using his million-dollar insured hands to shell a crab for his little assistant. All to coax her into eating something since she "didn't have an appetite." Meanwhile, I was practically bleeding out from chugging wine to secure an investment for him, and when I asked him for some antacids, he straight-up refused. Said, “My hands are for painting, babe, you got your own, right?” For ten years, his rejection tactics haven't even chang