Stop Walking On Eggshells Book Summary

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

On my birthday, my husband, Adrian Grant, suddenly showed up with my adoptive younger sister, Bella Reed, and her child, Tia Reed. When it was time to head out, he naturally arranged for Bella to sit in the front passenger seat. Then he turned to me and said calmly, "Tia gets carsick easily. The back seat is full of stuff. Since you're healthy, just take the bus." Our friends immediately chimed in, one after another, "You're the older sister. Taking care of your niece is only right." Four cars were heading out, yet not one seat was left for me, the supposed main character of the day. I sat on the bus, swallowing my grievance, and saw Adrian and Bella interacting ambiguously in the group chat. They were even talking about topics I knew nothing about. When I opened the newly sent video, nothing except leftovers remained on the table prepared for me. Adrian even treated the birthday cake I had carefully prepared as dessert, spoon-feeding it to Bella and her daughter. Someone finally couldn’t stand it anymore and asked whether this was appropriate. Adrian, who was carefully wiping Bella’s mouth, didn’t even look up. "We’re all family. Julia won’t be angry." At that point, our seven-year marriage came to its end.

Based on gender-based violence If you were ever in a position where you couldn't defend yourself - please read the book. There is always someone out there who is willing to help! “if you can’t handle the punches, how will you ever stop them from abusing you?” “Hit me?” Blake yells. Making my eyes watery and angry. “Hit me, or I will hit you,” he said again. I picked up my fist to punch him as hard as I can, but he grabbed me and picked me up before my fist could connect with his jaw. Our eyes melted together, and I’m slowly disappearing into a dark place the more I stare. Emily Dawson was walking home one night from a small restaurant In Virginia where she works to pay for her doctor’s degree when she got jumped by three-man. they beat her and took all of her belongings. 12 years ago, her stepfather abused Emily when she was a child, so she never learned how to defend herself until Blake, the most popular and successful kickboxer in town, came to her rescue. At first, it was only about training and helping Emily get over her fears and learn how to defend herself until she fell in love with him, but that was a dark place she had to go in. Blake has a past of mistreating women, not abusing them but using them. Will he fall in love with her as well? Or will he keep their relationship with no strings attached?

My mom is terrified of being laughed at by others the most. Whenever the holidays are here, she will keep repeating one sentence to me—"Don't go around embarrassing me." When my relatives gather around and chat with each other, I accidentally knock a fruit platter over. Mom drags me over and slaps me on the spot. At the holiday feast, I grab extra pieces of steak for myself. Mom responds by kicking my chair over. When it's time for the holiday gifts to be distributed, my aunt, Gabriella Hall, has miscalculated the number of children present among the family. So, she has prepared one less gift for the occasion. Mom doesn't hesitate to kick me out of the apartment, leaving me shivering in the cold corridor in just my indoor clothes. The icy winds chill me to the bone. I keep slamming my palms on the front door while screaming and crying my apologies at Mom, and yet she remains unmoved and silent. Instead, she turns to face Aunt Gabriella with an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm really sorry. I didn't raise my daughter well. It's only fair that you ridicule me." What Mom doesn't know is that I get triggered whenever I hear the word "ridicule" thanks to her so-called parenting lessons. Whenever I hear that word, I want nothing more than to hurt myself uncontrollably. So when I hear the word "ridicule" coming out of Mom's mouth through the front door, I turn on my heel quietly and begin making my way toward the bridge next to the neighborhood that's plunged into darkness. The moment I jump from the bridge, the only thought I have is, "Mom, no one will ridicule you because of me this time."

THE BILLIONAIRE'S FORBIDDEN WEAKNESS (Where the Ice Breaks) Damien Cole built his empire the same way he built his walls — brick by brick, from nothing, with bleeding hands and a heart he locked away so long he forgot it was still there. By thirty-two, he's untouchable. Ruthless. The kind of man who commands every room he enters and feels nothing when he leaves. His assistants don't last. His relationships don't either. He doesn't do warmth. He doesn't do weakness. Then Nathalia Bennett walks in. Fresh out of university, armed with ambition and absolutely zero patience for arrogance, she takes the job nobody wants — personal assistant to New York's most feared CEO. She isn't impressed by the money. She isn't intimidated by the power. And when he's cold as ice, she doesn't flinch. When he pushes, she pushes back. It should have been simple. Professional. Temporary. It becomes anything but. From the steel and glass of New York to the rain-soaked streets of London, the glittering excess of Monaco and the quiet devastation of a Bali night — something is breaking open between them. Something neither of them asked for. Something Damien will fight with everything he has, because the only thing more terrifying than his past is the possibility that she could make him forget it. He has survived everything life threw at him by feeling nothing. Nathalia Bennett is about to become the one thing he can't survive. Some walls don't crack. They shatter.

At our company dinner, my girlfriend, Katherine Hale, makes a detour to get some treats. She hands a glass of juice to my childhood friend, Mark Langley, who is sitting opposite us. Then, she sets down a cup of yogurt in front of me. Mark thanks her with a smile. "How thoughtful of you! You remembered I can't have iced drinks because of my gastric issues." I stare at the cup of yogurt with mango bits in it. Then, I nudge it further away from me, my expression blank. "What's the matter?" Katherine asks casually. I respond, "I'm allergic to mangoes. Did you forget that again?" She freezes for a moment. Then, she smiles and shrugs. "Come on, it's no big deal. Just pick out the mango bits." But she never forgets that Mark doesn't want any cilantro or onion in his food. Also, he only accepts chilled juice without any ice or sugar. Meanwhile, I have difficulty breathing if I take even a single bite of mango, but she thinks it's fine as long as I pick them out. Turns out, if one is biased enough, they can overlook even matters of life and death. On our way home, I sit in the back seat as usual. I look at the two people in the front, who seem perfect for each other. All of a sudden, I feel relief washing over me. Katherine can't even remember my allergies, so what am I holding onto this relationship for?