Fear pierces my soul, his eyes are so cold. His smile is pasted on.
“Good morning, Dear, how is my favorite wife today?” What’s that in his voice? It’s not the warmth I usually hear, it’s calculating, cunning. What’s wrong with him? What is he doing?
“Honey”, I ask tentatively, “are you OK this morning”? “Of course, my darling, what makes you think otherwise”? I shiver.
Turning around, the smile quickly returns. He is phony, fake. I see his reflection in the mirror, but he doesn’t know I’m watching.
Instead of my usual loving husband, there is a stranger. A sharp cruelness appears on his face that I have never seen before. It’s chilling. He ponders, what is he thinking? He’s not thinking about me, how much he says he loves me, or how I feel. His talk, that’s all for show.
I turn around, seeming all smiles and happy. His demeanor changes, he smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. He turns around to me–he doesn’t know I saw. Reaching up, I hold him in my arms, pretending he is all I want. “Oh, Honey, I’ve fixed your favorite breakfast…..”