There was basically little traffic and the driver drove smoothly. It didn't take long before Mr. Brown was home, and the moment he stepped into the living room, a ceramic cup hurled towards him.
The sleazy man didn't dare sidestep but let the cup hit him square on the chest.
"Cough," he clutched his chest, rage boiling inside of him and yet couldn't show his unwillingness as he looked at his wife of years glaring at him as if he had killed her parents.
"You dare glare at me?" the wife accused as she pointed angrily at him, her body shaking and Mr. Brown could see that whatever angered her was serious.
This time, she was not playing at all but was very serious.
He couldn't help but wonder what happened, though his anger and unwillingness of being bullied like that didn't disappear.
