She seems to reek of happiness. The new house, the cute baby, the sports car, the great teaching job, the loving husband with his own successful IT consultancy business. They do paint a pretty picture. Everything looks so perfect, so grand. And there you are, wondering if she really had it all.
The scene behind the picture is not always what it seems.
His sudden burst of temper. His questioning of her competency. She doubts if she's a good mother. The growing distance between them that he doesn't acknowledge. And yet, he pushes the invisible gap wider and wider. She reaches out and he backs off. She back offs and he turns away. He is always right, and if she thinks he isn't then it is she who doesn't understand. She says sorry, too often. The baby cries, he snaps, yells, and on a few occasions raised his hand ready to slap. She begs of him to help her, to seek help, to help them both, to save themselves. He looks away.
Bruised ego, lost identities. But they do paint a pretty picture, they do.
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