Chance of Love

Chapter 18

"Does it taste okay?" Mark asked as Amanda chewed on a mouthful of stir-fried vegetables and rice.

Swallowing, Amanda nodded and tried to smile, but she doubted she succeeded because Mark's face still wore the same guarded expression.

They ate their meal in silence, a silence which was more awkward because they felt the difference. Amanda was not very hungry, but she forced herself to eat at least half of what was on her plate. Mark did not say anything when he took her plate to the kitchen.

"Would you like some dessert? I made some brownies," Mark said, with a look in his eyes which Amanda couldn't read.

"You didn't have to make dessert," Amanda said, feeling sheepish for the way he was spoiling her.

"I can't do anything right, can I?" Mark said sarcastically, finally letting the tension get the better of him. "If I didn't make dessert, you'd probably complain about it."

Under normal circumstances, Amanda would have mollified him by giving him one of her special hugs. But things had not been normal for a long time. She didn't know why, but she felt guilty for treating Mark badly. Things were not working out too well and she could not understand why everything felt so awkward and strange.

"You misunderstood me," Amanda said. "All I meant was that you didn't have to go to so much trouble."

"Why can't I go to any trouble?" Mark asked, trying not to sound offended. "I am your husband, after all. Or does that mean nothing to you?"

"I don't know what anything means right now," Amanda replied tearfully. "All I know is that I can't even have a conversation with you."

"Why not?" Mark asked, puzzled. "We used to talk about everything."

Amanda blinked, needing no reminders of their previous intimacy.

"That was before," she said, her tone full of regret.

"Before what?" he asked, impatient.

"Before your car accident," she answered, looking into his eyes for the first time.

"I don't understand," he said, his voice full of caution.

Amanda sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"When you came back from the hospital, you were not the same person."

"In what way?" Mark queried, sitting down across from her. He didn't sound angry, only curious.

"In many ways," Amanda replied. "You were not the same person I married. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen to me."

"I'm listening now," he said softly, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.

Amanda noticed his fingers, but couldn't figure out whether he was nervous or impatient.

"I don't know how to tell you everything without you getting mad at me," Amanda replied, feeling uncomfortable about sharing her feelings with him.

Mark's fingers stopped drumming. Amanda's eyes were drawn to his handsome face. He was looking at her in a which she had almost forgotten. It made her heart pound because he was looking deeply into her eyes.

"I won't get mad at you," he said, in a tone which left no room for her to doubt him.

"Well, the biggest thing was that...you were not very affectionate like you had been before. I mean, you didn't seem too interested in being...close to me. I felt unwanted every time you rejected me. It seemed like you were angry at me all the time, like you were blaming me for something. I thought you didn't love me anymore."