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He eyes me warily. His spidey senses have obviously caught a whiff of disquiet in the air. Avoiding his gaze, I say, “I should get to work.” I try to brush past him, but he grips my upper arm and pulls me against his chest. “Wife.” The word is a warning. I know he’s demanding an explanation from me, but I feel too unsettled and vulnerable. Too raw. I’m not sure what’s happening between us, only that my emotions are all over the place. Jealousy isn’t a thing for me. It never has been. I don’t know why it should be now, considering that my husband and I are strangers. Except for our genitals, which are quickly becoming best friends. Still avoiding his eyes, I say quietly, “I need to get to the shop.” “In that dress? I don’t think so.” “I’ll choose my own outfits for work, thank you.
- Writer
