But as soon as I turned around, he grabbed my arm and asked, "Baby, why aren't you continuing? What's the matter?"
I rolled my eyes and snapped, "You take a shower first. Once you're done, I'll pick up where we left off. Mark my words."
"Oh, right. But aren't we going to shower together? It seems like a perfect way to enjoy the night," he teased.
In the past, when we were still head over heels for each other, we used to shower together. But tonight felt different—odd and strange.
He had pushed me to my limit and I was emotionally drained. After I came out, my eyes were red from crying.
He gently laid me on the bed, smiled and kissed me. Then, trying to make things right, he poured me a glass of water.
Indeed, I was parched. As soon as I got the water, I gulped it down.
He then wrapped me in his arms, turned off the light and gently rocked me to sleep like a baby.
Countless nights, he had held me close, comforted me and watched over me until I was sound asleep.
I didn't want to drift off, but my eyelids felt like lead. When drowsiness suddenly hit, I clutched his hand and said, "Husband."
"Hmm, I'm here. I'll always be here. Now, go to sleep," he murmured.