Dancing with Time

The Jealous Husband

Dedicated to: amaramaqsood

"I want to know every inch and curve of your body as it belongs to me, and it will. I want to know everything. Where you are. Who you're with. What panties you are wearing right now." ― M.C Smothers

Juliet stirred in her sleep, the remnants of a dream clinging to her like cobwebs. A wisp of a voice, distant and muffled, drifted through the haze. It was a name...hers?

Suddenly, a warm touch ignited a spark across her cheek. It sent a jolt through her body, a flicker of something both familiar and unexpected. Juliet flinched away, instinctively pulling the pillow over her head, burrowing deeper into the cocoon of warmth.

"Juliet," the voice persisted, closer now, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. It was that voice, the one that made butterflies erupt in her stomach, their frantic fluttering mimicking the erratic rhythm of her heart. His warm breath tickled her ear, a teasing sensation that both annoyed and aroused her.

"Hmm," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, a playful protest against the unwelcome intrusion. Despite her half-hearted resistance, a part of her yearned to surrender to the gentle prodding. It wasn't fatigue that kept her tethered to the bed but a strange, delicious inertia, a desire to prolong this stolen moment of intimacy.

"If you don't wake up, I'll sprinkle cold water on your face," came the playful challenge, laced with a hint of amusement. Juliet groaned, the sound muffled by the pillow. It was a familiar threat, one they'd exchanged countless times before. With a sigh that was half-protest, half-acceptance, she cracked one eye open.

Keith's face swam into view, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief. A ghost of a smile danced on his lips, a stark contrast to the tense silence that had dominated their interactions lately. Relief washed over her, a sweet, unexpected tide. It was a small gesture, this playful teasing, but it held the promise of a new beginning, a thawing of the icy wall that had grown between them. "What time is it?" She asks, rubbing her eyes

"Six-thirty," he announced, the amusement lingering in his voice. Juliet's eyes widened in disbelief. She had overslept.

"Oh," Juliet managed, a single word that spoke volumes. The silence that followed wasn't heavy but comfortable, a shared space where unspoken words hung in the air. "I should get the food warmed up," she mumbled, finally mustering the energy to throw off the covers.

"No need," Keith replied smoothly, already rising from the bed. He was still dressed in his sharp office suit, a detail that snagged her attention. It was a Wednesday, and Keith's usual routine involved a mad dash to change before work. "I will take you out for dinner." This unexpected deviation from their usual evenings piqued her curiosity.

"Okay," she said slowly. Juliet grabbed a simple navy blue dress that fell to her knees, cinching it at the waist with a black belt. The familiar routine of getting ready felt different this time, tinged with a nervous anticipation she couldn't quite place.

A quick bathroom stop – a splash of water on her face, a swipe of mascara, and a hurried brushing of her hair – and she emerged, a hint of self-consciousness clinging to her like a second skin.

Keith was engrossed in his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration. She slipped on a pair of black flats and grabbed a small, shimmering clutch purse. As she met his gaze, a flicker of something passed through his eyes, a fleeting emotion she couldn't decipher.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice devoid of warmth, but the question hung in the air with a weight that suggested more than met the ear. It was a test, perhaps, a way to gauge her reaction.