She grew quiet. Her words had dried up like the ink of a dead poet's felt. She didn't cry, tears were a forgotten element that her soul no longer understand. She ignored him now, just as he had done her when he sat playing games on his phone or watching cartoons on the computer.
She resents him, she doesn't respect him because somewhere along the journey he forgot to love her-truly love her. He forgot to be there, he forgot the oath he took, he forgot that of his own free will he declared "I do. " and before that he pursued her. Then he did, then he didn't again plunging her into an endless cycle of spite. So now she stays quiet , she nods her head. Her replies are vacant, elusive and final.
She doesn't care anymore.
"Let him be! " she says " I can do it on my own. "