This Damn Toxic Love
1.2k Views · Ongoing · Aria Sinclair
On my husband’s birthday, my sister returned home.
The first thing she said to me was, "So, when are you planning to divorce him?"
I let out a cold laugh, turned on my heel, and headed straight to a club to hire eight go-go dancers.
I was in the middle of a steamy, skin-to-skin dance with a model who had a perfect eight-pack when my husband—who usually makes it a point to be in bed early—dragged me off the dance floor.
Looking at his dark, livid face, I said, "The young men here don't need an early bedtime to hold onto their youth. You're already old." I tapped his cheek and smiled. "And I deserve better."
The first thing she said to me was, "So, when are you planning to divorce him?"
I let out a cold laugh, turned on my heel, and headed straight to a club to hire eight go-go dancers.
I was in the middle of a steamy, skin-to-skin dance with a model who had a perfect eight-pack when my husband—who usually makes it a point to be in bed early—dragged me off the dance floor.
Looking at his dark, livid face, I said, "The young men here don't need an early bedtime to hold onto their youth. You're already old." I tapped his cheek and smiled. "And I deserve better."















































