Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
A variety of sex toys caught my eye from vibrators to handcuffs to paddles. My face warmed up in embarrassment, even if some of them made that same warmth burn lower. But I couldn’t bring myself to even pick anything up.
It wasn’t wrong to indulge in such things. But all I could think about was all the lectures I had been given when growing up by my parents, teachers, and other older figures in my community. I was raised on the premise of intimacy being contained to sex with your married partner and so on and so forth. Fooling around with a sex toy while my husband was deployed went against such conservative teachings, even if I was old enough to know that they didn’t need to stand. I was an adult. My own person!
But some habits and mindsets were harder to break out of than others, so I bottled up my desires and focused my energy on doing translation projects, maintaining the units I rented out, and looking after the household as I had also been taught growing up. It was hard to stick to such traditional roles when my husband was always gone, though.
With a deflated sigh, I abandoned the shop, knowing that I didn’t have the courage to buy anything. I headed straight home, following hundreds of footsteps that I had already taken from the front door to the bedroom. I dropped the shopping bag on the bed before collapsing next to it and covering my face.
There was so much that I wanted to change and take better control of, but it was so difficult flipping things around on my own. We shared a life. One that I felt like I lived all alone.
I lowered my hands and sat up, my gaze sweeping over my nightstand and settling on a framed picture of David and me when we were dating in our twenties. His now salt and pepper hair was light brown, and his blue eyes shined as we leaned against each other with smiles on our faces. We fell in love so quickly and naturally, and it felt like those warm, fuzzy honeymoon days would last forever.
They didn’t, but we were still happy as we got into our thirties and started figuring out our lives more. Now, as I hit thirty-six and he reached forty-one, we weren’t as carefree and starry-eyed. We changed as people usually did, and that wouldn’t be a problem if we changed together more than apart.
Truly, could we sustain a marriage when he was gone so much? Would the distance eventually break our marriage of fourteen years apart?
The younger version of me would scream and cry at the thought of that, but I had grown up a lot since then. I was the one who went through days of being all alone, hoping that my husband came back from his missions and still wanted to be with me. Given that I was a curvier woman, I always worried that I wouldn’t be attractive to him anymore, even if he hadn’t given me any notion of that.
My fingertip traced the top edge of the picture frame, my heart aching as I reflected back on our younger days when our problems were so small. It was tough seeing younger women in their honeymoon or dating days, like one of my old tenants, Aisling, who ended up dating multiple men!
With my figure, I felt lucky enough to catch the eyes of my husband. I doubted I would pique any other guys’ interest on top of that. Not that I cared to anyway, but I was sure that Aisling never felt lonely or neglected with all of those men so in love with her.
I felt terrible just thinking about that. I appreciated my husband so much, especially after all we had been through together, but a strong marriage required communication and affection. We didn’t get to experience or share much of that since we weren’t even on the same continent, and I just didn’t see David retiring any time soon.
Not when he loved his job and respected the men in his unit so much. That would be like breaking up a family for him, but what about our family that we hadn’t even gotten a chance to start yet?
My conflicting thoughts went up in smoke at the sound of my phone ringing, my heart lurching as I quickly swiped it off the bed. With large, hopeful eyes, I brought the screen into view, hoping to see my husband’s name on the screen, but it was Ryder, my brother, instead. My shoulders sank a little.
I loved Ryder, but I was dying to talk to David. I wanted to know about his day and hear about how brave he was. I wanted to make sure that he was okay and safe because I worried about him every single day. Despite how down I felt, I was also so incredibly proud of him and the work he did to help other people.