𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐨 is back, healthier, and happier (sorta). She spends her life walking and running the streets of New York City knowing her husband, 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐨 and three bodyguards are on her side. Funny thing is...
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I brush my teeth while I watch Nora wash her body through the glass shower door.
She rinses her body and starts scrubbing again. This is the fourth time she's washing her body. It's alarming, honestly.
Every day I've watched her shower, she's washing her body 5 times, and each time, her skin is turning red because of how hard she's scrubbing her skin. I've seen her start bleeding once.
She also keeps the water scorching hot.
When we shower together, it's lukewarm or whatever, sometimes hot, but I don't mind warm temperatures. Her skin basically turns maroon when she showers alone.
I try to get her to stop, because it's going to harm her one day, but she just won't.
But it's okay. We're stopping one bad habit at a time.
She hasn't been pinching herself as much, recently, and I've never been more proud of my girl.
She takes some vanilla-scented shampoo and puts it all over her hair. She scrubs and closes her eyes, I assume from pleasure.
She rinses, repeats, then conditions.
I have her entire morning routine memorized.
She washes her face in a circular motion because she thinks it does something, takes her pill in between, then she puts on exactly two and a half moisturizers. Two are for moisture, the third is for moisture and acne.
Again, I'm proud of how she's taking care of herself. She wasn't doing this when we first met.
She even stopped complaining about her eyebrows. Sure, she still complains about everything else, but it's absolutely certain nothing is wrong with her face. I just need her to realize nothing is wrong with her body, either.
She gets out of the shower and I hand her her pink towel. She smiles at me and takes it from me. She wraps it around her body and ties a bow at the top with the two slits I cut for her.
I smile back at her tug on the bow to make it look a little better. I kiss her forehead. "How are you?"
She lifts her head and kisses my lips. "Freaking perfect."
"I'm glad that you're fucking perfect." I put emphasis on the word "fucking," just to tick her off.
She crosses her arms and gives me a look that says: don't fuck with me. "I said freaking, Zachary."
She turns around and gets her face wash. She squirts it into her hand before scrubbing in the circular motion she always scrubs in.
After she does that and rinses her face, she looks at me with a lost look in her eyes. "Am I forgetting something?"
"Pill," I remind. I ruffle hair as if to call her silly. She nods and opens the drawer.
She throws the birth control pill into her mouth, cups water into her hand, slurps it, and swallows.
