2
John didn’t return home until after 3 AM.
He wore a smug smile, completely oblivious
to the missing button on his collar.
Seeing me still on the couch, he approached
slowly and reached for my neck:
“Sorry, I didn’t discuss changing the artwork
beforehand, but the original piece lacked
visual impact and affected the overall
presentation.”
“Next time, I’ll re–display our photo when
there’s a more suitable theme. Does that
work?”
I glanced up; he still wore his gloves.
Maintaining a distance.
“Sarah, today’s our fourth wedding
anniversary. Why don’t you take a shower
first, and then…”
His words made me chuckle.
Over the years,
spontaneous kisses, hugs, and other normal
things.
John never initiated them.
If they happened, it was compensation for a
mistake.
Or perhaps, an act of charity.
I said nothing. I picked up the hand sanitizer,
causing him to snort.
He said, teasingly touching my chin:
“It’s okay, my OCD isn’t as bad as before.
You don’t need to be so careful.”
Just as his fingertips neared, I blocked him
with my arm.
John’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Sarah, I told you I wouldn’t mind. You don’t
need to be so cautious.”
I shook my head:
“No… I mind.”
John’s face visibly twitched.
He must have thought he misheard.
Quickly, his trembling pupils returned to
normal:
“What I said at the exhibition was just to hype
Г
the piece. You don’t really think my twenty-
year OCD suddenly vanished because of
Jessica, do you?”
“Sarah, I thought you weren’t so rigid. Now
you’re giving me the cold shoulder because of
one photo…”
I didn’t respond; I silently returned to the
guest room.
And locked the door.
John always said he was a light sleeper, even
my slightest movement would bother him.
To avoid disturbing him,
I’d slept in this cramped, windowless room for
four years.
He still hadn’t realized.
A change in affection isn’t instantaneous.
