[ WP ] You can see the darkest secret of everyone you meet . As you enter your house , expecting to see the usual abusive father story of your spouse , you stop ; it has changed .

Jennifer and I just could n't agree lately. On anything, it seemed. She wanted Chinese, I wanted Pizza Hut. She wanted to watch `` American Idol''; what the hell was up with that, she knew I hated that show. She kept sleeping with the blankets wrapped around her body, turning down my advances almost every night for two months now. I was okay with it though. My parents always taught me that marriage is n't easy; this was my wife and the future mother of my children. I could never stop loving this woman. 
 
 So I'd lay there and try to sleep, wishing I could touch her or cuddle her without hearing screams so close they could be coming from downstairs. If we did touch, if I could concentrate hard enough on something else, her smile, her little crooked canine, the dip in her back, the bounce of her breasts, I could block them out. Visions of Jennifer, dodging blows from her crackhead father. 
 
 I came home today, taking off my tie as I made my way into the kitchen. She was n't home yet, and I wanted to make her dinner. 
 
 When she walked in, the dining table was set, the lights were on, the house was warm from the oven; but she looked visibly ill. 
 
 `` Babe, are you okay?'' I questioned, walking over to her and absentmindedly placing a hand on her forehead. She began to protest. 
 
 `` I'm fine, I swear,'' she said, trying to push my hand away. It was too late. I'd already seen it. I recoiled, unexpected tears blurring my vision; I tried to focus on the smell of the pot roast, the feel of the carpet between my fingers as I sobbed, doubled over. I could n't block out this vision; of her, walking into an abortion clinic, early this morning.
