Or so I thought, Until I met you. Words cannot explain who you were. But maybe I should start from who you are now.
I hear the bell ring at 1am and I lie still, hoping my phone will beep with your message asking me to get the door, but again I hear the maid's phone & 10 seconds later the click of the door handle.
I shut my eyes, but open them again. What kind of man wouldn't want to see his beautiful wife's face? Its the same tonight, barely a glance, a muffled greeting & the sound of you undressing in the dark. I want to sit up, I want to ask you how you are, but I will die if I hear you say the cold "I'm fine" once again.
Another champagne coloured chiffon nightdress gone unnoticed.
Sanity has eluded me & so has my husband. My once ravished body, now pristine. Almost Virgin. Pure.
I hear you breathe beside me, I can feel your eyes on the wall just as you can feel mine on your back.
Oh should I speak, & hear you pretend to sleep? is that my pessimist mind discouraging me again? Maybe you will talk to me this time, maybe you will whisper, scream, yell. Anything.
Or maybe it will all change when you know that we've created something.
I tried on sweet words & I choked. All that I heard in the darkness was the echo of my own voice: "I am four months pregnant"
I had wanted a miracle so long that I imagined the sheets squeeze under me & I had seen a silhouette of you coming towards me.
"I will like to move to the guest room" No. That wasn't the pessimist voice. It was Brian's. The baritone voice belonged to my husband. Or should I say live-in-stranger? The Silhouette was sitting up, head in hands.
No further questions. No further statements. Just paused breaths and a long cold, cold silence. I tasted salt on my lips. My eyes are once again my voice, once again the million words, trapped in my heart.