The next morning, Ethan came downstairs and was greeted with the sight of his little wife with an apron tied around her waist, her lips moving as she mumbled to herself.
“You’re up, dear”, she said when she saw him, “Breakfast is ready”.
She helped him push his wheelchair to the dining table. Ethan studied her, her smile was radiant enough to rival the sun streaming in from the windows.
“If I could have a good morning kiss…”, he said, “… it would certainly improve my appetite”.
Jane eyed her husband. What was with him, this man in his thirties, always pestering her for kisses?
Begrudgingly, she gave him a peck on the lips. “Will this do?”
“If you’re going to put it that way, no”.
Jane pouted and fell silent. When he caught sight of her expression, Ethan’s mouth flattened into a thi
