I didn't realize I had fallen asleep next to John, and when I woke up, I didn't see him by my side. The clothes on the floor were gone. He must have been busy in the kitchen as usual, and sure enough, there he was, busily preparing dinner for us.
The day had passed too quickly. He would probably leave after finishing the food on his plate, meet Hell again, fucked her, then forget about me, and would come only when he wanted another variation. But no matter. I was his wife, after all. Even if I made love to him, it wouldn't lower my self-esteem because I was under the umbrella of marriage while Hell wasn't.
Others might say I had taken John, but I didn't see myself that way. John had chosen me, and I was a part of his life now, even though it was sometimes torturous. I couldn't deny that I was happy to live with it—just because this way, I could continue to see and meet him.
