The Fight to Save a Marriage

The town had been beautifully decorated for the holidays; a light dusting of snow blanketed the walkways and trees. The locals walking to and fro hugged themselves to keep out the chilling wind that blew. But inside the downtown training gym, Gram stood heaving her breath as she found herself flat on the mat, drenched in sweat. They had been sparring for nearly thirty minutes and though she had managed to keep up with him, she felt he had been holding back because of her gender. The thought boiled her blood. She looked up at her opponent's confident smirk, grinning inwardly at his egotistical display. "Had enough?" he asked reaching a hand to help her up.

"Almost." She replied taking his hand and yanking him towards her. She spun her body around in such a way that she was able to wrap her legs around his neck and flip him over to his back while still holding his hand, twisting his arm in an awkward and painful position. "You?"

He tapped her leg with his free and gasped out, "GIVE!" She released him and stood over him as he tried to regain his composure. "That was a bit harsh don't you think?" He said rubbing the soreness from his arm.

"Next time maybe you won't treat me like a fragile little flower."

"You have indeed come a long way in such a short time, Gram. Let's call it a night."

"Too tired already, George? C'mon, just one more round." She whined pouting her lip out ever so slightly.

"Not tonight, Gram. I have a date."

"Since when do you date? I've known you forever and I have never known you to date anyone. Ever." She pushed his shoulder with one hand. He had been her best friend since kindergarten and though she was married to his older brother, they had remained close. "I was seriously starting to think you were gay or something."

"I was busy."

"Too busy for girls?"

"Yes. But things are different now. I'm done with the guard. Done with competitions and now that I've finished up POST, I have a full-time local job starting next week."

That's right, her friend was a cop now, which meant her time with him training and sparring was going to diminish quite a lot. She stared blankly at him as her mind went through the all the negatives of losing time with her friend. It had been four months since she was attacked and lost her child. Four months of a type of loneliness and rage that left her in complete darkness. She had come to George to learn how to defend herself and found an outlet for her anger. The time she spent with George was the only time she felt somewhat alive.

She couldn't even look at her husband without seeing the face of her attacker. So lost in her pain, she had moved back in with her parents. She had refused to talk with Tristan since the baby's funeral; spending the holidays and her birthday alone in her old bedroom. Many times, her parents had tried to talk to her about her marriage. They prayed for her to find peace in her mourning, but she had wanted nothing to do with God either. She had shut out her husband, her children and God and ran straight to George. Now George was going to leave her for some woman? Tears threatened to blur her vision.

"Hey," George interrupted her thoughts. "You okay, Gram?"

She stood taller, squaring her shoulders against her emotions. "Of course!" she lied forcing a smile. "So, who's the lucky girl?"

"Janeth Reed."

"Janeth Reed? Isn't she like... a lot older than you?"

"Only by four years. And what's the matter with that? Tristan is four years older than you." He pointed out. The mention of her husband's name brought a frown to her face that she couldn't mask so she turned her head hoping George wouldn't notice. "I saw that look, Gram." He said putting a hand on her shoulder. "You know as well as I do, Tristan loves you more than any other human could."

"I know." She choked. "But..."

"I know you're still hurt. And angry..."

"Can we not talk about this George?" She pleaded. "Please?"

"It's not me you should be talking to anyway, Gram." He said as he looked past her.

She followed his line of sight to find her husband standing just inside the door. "You told him I would be here tonight?" She asked sounding like she had been betrayed. George just smiled sheepishly at her as he grabbed his bag. She watched him head into the locker room with a glare on her face. How could he do this to her. Tristan was the last person she wanted to see. Turning her back to her husband, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Through gritted teeth she growled, "Go home, Tristan."

"Not without you, Gram." He replied. "The kids need you. And, I need you with me."

"And I need to be away from you!" she screamed. "Don't you get it? I can't even look at you!"

"Is it my fault that I look like that asshole?!" He yelled. Each word laced with pain and anger. "Is it my fault that my bastard father spread his seed all over the damned place? You think I like that I share his face? You don't think I know what it does to you?" He sighed in frustration at her silence. "You're not only one who lost her that day. He didn't just hurt you. He didn't just kill our daughter."

"Tristan, please." She let the tears flow. "Don't. I can't."

He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. Taking her face in his hands, he made her look at him. "He destroyed our family! And my face is a constant reminder of what he did! If I could change this face of mine for you, I would. Tell me how to fix this!"

"Take your hands off me!" She ran her arms up between his and then outward to dislodge his hands, then landed a loud slap upon his cheek.

"Is that what you want?" he growled. "To fight me? Will it make you feel better to beat me?!"

No words left her mouth, but her jaw tensed in anticipation at the prospect of bruising that beautiful face of his. Maybe then, she could look at him without disgust. She glowered at him with as much hate as she could muster. It wasn't him she hated, of course, but his bastard brother, Levi. The one who beat her unconscious and killed the baby in her womb. The man who cause injuries so severe, that doctors said she would probably never be able to bear children again. But her beloved Tristan looked exactly like that devil who caused all this pain and that alone was unbearable enough for her to walk away from him and her family. She walked over to the sparring mat and took up her position throwing a challenging glare at her husband. If he was willing to fight her, who was she to refuse.

"So be it." He said as he removed his jacket, shirt and shoes. "But if I win, you come home with me and we'll put this whole mess behind us. We'll go back to being the family we were before that son of Satan entered our lives!"

"And if I win?" she cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him.

"What do you want?"

"I'll let you know when I win."

"You mean, 'if'," he corrected her.

"I said what I meant. I won't go easy on you." She attacked him first as he positioned himself in front of her. She would let her rage lead her on. If he got hurt, so be it. If she hurt, so be it. It was all or nothing in that moment.

He blocked her first attempt to strike him and took the opportunity to strike her, knocking her to the ground with little effort. "Nor will I on you. I am, after all, fighting to save my marriage."