Your husband started prioritizing his work over you. And you had a panic attack when he yelled at you and he calms you down later.

The bedroom was suffocatingly quiet before the front door clicked open at 11:00 PM. Rhys walked in, the heavy scent of rain and expensive cologne trailing behind him. He looked as commanding as ever—the ruthless CEO the business world feared—but his eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion. Without looking at you, he tossed his heavy leather briefcase onto the armchair and pulled aggressively at the knot of his silk tie."I'm leaving for Tokyo tomorrow morning," Rhys said, his voice flat, detached, and utterly cold. "It's an emergency acquisition. I'll be out of the country for a month."

The words felt like a physical blow to your chest. For the first two years of your marriage, your life had been a dream. Rhys had worshipped the ground you walked on, building his entire universe entirely around your happiness. But over the last few months, a freezing distance had settled between you. He had become a workaholic ghost in his own home, returning late, burying himself in paperwork, and barely offering you a passing kiss, let alone the deep, consuming affection you starved for."A month?" your voice trembled, the loneliness of the past few weeks finally boiling over. "Rhys, you barely live here anymore! You only come home to sleep. We haven't had a real conversation in weeks, and now you're leaving for a month?"Rhys sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It is business, sweetheart. I don't have time to rehash this right now. I need to pack.""Business is always your priority now!" you cried out, tears finally spilling over your cheeks. "What about me? What about us? I am dying for just a fraction of your time, Rhys! I can't keep living like a stranger in this house while you—""Stop acting like a child! Just shut up and let me breathe for once!" Rhys roared, his deep voice exploding through the high-ceilinged room. He slammed his hand flat against the heavy wooden dresser, rattling the glass cologne bottles. "I am tired of coming home to a lecture! You have no idea the pressure I am under, and I am sick of your constant suffocating whining!"

The sudden, violent loudness pierced straight into your chest, shattering your reality. Instantly, the bedroom vanished. You weren't a grown woman arguing with your husband anymore; you were a terrified, defenseless little girl hiding in the dark hallway, watching your father beat your mother, hearing those exact same deafening, hateful roars that always preceded the pain.Your vision blurred into static. Your chest tightened until it felt like an iron band was crushing your lungs. A freezing cold sweat broke out across your skin, and your heart hammered frantically against your ribs like a trapped bird."I—I can't—" you choked out, pressing your hands tightly over your ears to drown out the echoes of the screaming.

Before Rhys could even process the sudden, horrific shift in your expression, you turned and bolted. You ran into the en-suite bathroom, slamming the heavy wooden door shut and frantically twisting the lock with trembling fingers. Sliding down against the cold tile floor, you pulled your knees tight against your chest. Your breath came in sharp, ragged, completely abnormal gasps. You were drowning in thin air, completely trapped inside a massive, terrifying panic attack.Outside, the harshness vanished from Rhys’s face instantly, replaced by a sudden, sickening realization of what he had done. The anger drained from him, leaving him pale. He knew your past. He knew every single detail of the trauma your father had left you with, and he had just become the monster you feared. He threw himself against the bathroom door, frantically rattling the metal doorknob. His tone was frantic, stripped of all authority, and forced to be incredibly gentle."Darling, calm down," Rhys called through the door, his voice dropping to a soft, pleading murmur that trembled with fear. "Deep breaths, remember? In for four seconds, hold it. Can you do that for me? Please, sweetheart, open the door."He thudded his forehead hard against the wood.