In love with my husband

Him and I

My goodness, I was getting old. My back ache like it was going to break anytime now. It was quite late at night, and I had just finished the chores. I saw Avishek reading a book lying against the pillow when I entered the room. For someone who did not care if she had her husband's love, I was quite obsessed with how good he looked. We were both nearing 50 and this guy doesn't look a day above 40. Of course, he wasn't built, I would be stupid to assume he had abs when he was about to touch the half century, but still he kept himself fit. Even his grey hair on his temples look good on him, that's not fair, but then again, I might be biased.

I take my night clothes from the closet and slip inside the bathroom. Every time I whine about how good he looks; I dread looking at the mirror. I don't know why he married me. I assessed myself looking at the mirror. My nose was flared at the end, my skin quite dusky, not even clear or smooth, my arms were flabby, my hips was too wide, my thighs never seem to be separated from each other. He was the kind of guy they showed in the movies, the one who was popular with lots of friends, who instantly charmed everyone they met, I was the quiet kid who pinned over guys like those from afar.

I growl frustrated at myself. I was 46, goddammit, I was too old to be this insecure in life. I heard that with age, you gain confidence in yourself, you don't care what others think, but me, I cannot tell you a single day in my life, where I have felt that I am something too. I cared too much of what others thought of me, I wanted to fit in. After being invisible for majority of my childhood, I never had any friends, I became quite shy to talk to people, I never went to college, wasn't every good in school either, now, my life revolved around my family.

Hell, I haven't even gone out of this city. I was born here and looks like I will die here too. I change into an old kurta of mine and avoid looking at the mirror on my way out. 

I sat on the bed, my back thanking me for the relief. I arranged the comforter and pillow and bid a "Goodnight" to Avishek.

He wished as well and after a while, put his book down and closed the lights.

I wonder how other couples behave. Do they kiss each other? Do they talk about their day before going to bed? Do they confess how much they love each other?

I allowed myself to imagine me and Avishek doing things that any other ordinary couple do for a while. What's the harm anyway? I have to wake up tomorrow back to reality anyway.