Foolishly Falling for You

6

Lance

Dinner is quiet again. She only eats in her room. She shared no meals with me. It seems she only leaves her room when I'm not here, making sure not to run into me in any instance.

It's becoming annoying.

"Call my wife down," I instruct one of the maids. "Invite her to dinner with me."

A few moments later she comes down. "I regret to inform you I've already eaten," she says, her eyes closed.

She's even avoiding eye contact by closing her eyes. Isn't this too far?

"We'll have dessert then," I inform her. She sits down across from me, and dessert is brought it, but she doesn't speak. No idle chatter, so the silence is even worse.

"What have you been doing?" I prompt her.

"Reading, mostly." She says simply.

All her answers seem so perfectly crafted. She answers just my question, leaving no room for follow ups and asking nothing of me. Nothing.

"What have you been reading," I continue, beginning to get frustrated at how hard she's making this.

"Just this and that. Nothing of import," she shrugs, her fingers on her fork. She hadn't started dessert. It's so awkward...

"Be specific," I try again. "What were you reading before you came down."

"A romance novel," she says, her fork spearing a strawberry. She doesn't bring it to her lips.

I snort. "What does a married woman need with romance?"

Anita is quiet, her eyes on her strawberry. "What indeed."

I narrow my eyes. So that's it. She's longing for romance, so she ignored her husband and reads all day. She hasn't grown as much as I thought.

I want to tell her not to fill her head with such nonsense, but I refrain. Anita says nothing if not prompted. It is somewhat refreshing but mostly disturbing.

I wait for her to ask something of me. What I'm doing. Where I'm going. When my next work trip is. Instead she stands.

"I don't have much of an appetite. I'll take my leave of you—"

I take her hand. "What's going on?"

She looks down at our hand,slipping her fingers from my hold.

"Nothing, husband."

I look down. It's time we confront this. Something had gone awry in our marriage.

"You know I didn't hate a little conversation . Only when you went overboard. And dinner wasn't terrible, together."

"Yes I'm sorry I made you suffer it," she says.

"No I mean—"

"Good night."

And she's gone. All she says these days is sorry. It feels as if I'm living with a ghost. This woman is beginning to vex me. The silence was nice at first but now it's deafening, and I'm beginning to worry she may not be just maturing.

Maybe something is wrong. Maybe she's ill.

"Hey, Anita." I pull her back, into my arms. I've never really done that before, unless we're dancing, and even then I keep us as far away as possible. She's small and soft. When we preform marital duties, I prefer to do so from behind. Those lovesick eyes made me sick.

She's still, as if she's paralyzed.

Yes...marital duties. That's perfect. If she's feeling unwell, it'll be the perfect way to cheer her. She always begged me to spend my nights in her bed, trying her best to seduce me. Perhaps...it will help bridge the misunderstanding.