We've been together something like ten years, married twice to each other, and have seen each others' worst habits (or maybe not). We've fought over worthy causes, and about petty things. We've laughed together, we've loved together, we've celebrated our differences and shared common interests.
But in all the time we'd been together, I had never ever seen him in as much awe as I did the time I blew my top, courtesy of the good folks at PMS Pte Ltd. Let's just say I was probably like a recently caught caged animal. Or at least that's the image I got. Whatever it was, it wasn't pretty.
I will never forget how my husband came up to me (or maybe "carefully approached me" would be a better description) and said the words, "Be careful. You can never retract your words", and attempted to calm me down with a hug of just the right pressure. My husband who recognised that I wasn't myself, and together with me, blamed those damn hormones.
All these years he'd let me think I was the one running the show when actually he's always been the strong one between us.
My mum's always said I needed someone like that to balance my jumpy nature; she's so right. I'm so grateful for his quiet strength. The rock. My rock.