Paper Bride ✔️ (Book 4 - DP Series - COMPLETE)

2. Silent Dinners

I spend the entire day cleaning up our small three-bedroom, single-story home. Seth had left for work hours ago, and I hadn't even attempted to leave my room to see him off. Not that I didn't want to. But I had a plan, and I needed to be subtle. He was a smart guy. If I suddenly started cooking him breakfast and kissing him goodbye each morning, he'd know that I was up to something.

I can't pamper him. If I did that, I'd be giving in to my own desires instead of focusing on his—as strange as that sounds. The reason? I want to pamper him. I want to make him happy because seeing him happy makes me happy. Unfortunately, he doesn't see it that way. Anytime I've tried to do nice things in the past, he's caught on to the fact that I'm trying to win him back and he pulls away. He told me once that it was because it felt forced and fake.

So, instead, here I am sweeping, mopping, and dusting the entire house. And I'm now hitting that point of exhaustion where I just want to sink beneath the cracks of the wood and disappear forever. The place smells like a honeysuckle garden—fresh and inviting.

I've just stacked the last dish in the cupboard when I hear a car door shut. Odd, because Seth never comes home before dinner. Maybe I should be worried... but I'm not.

To avoid playing the part of a doting wife waiting by the door with eager anticipation for her husband to arrive, I scurry back to my bedroom and plop myself down in front of my laptop. I hear him enter, throw his keys on the dinner table, and flick on the tv. It's hard to tell if anything is wrong. Seth's never been the type to let his temper control him, so if there was something to be worried about—like him losing his job—I'd never know it just based on his behavior.

I can't help but wonder what thoughts are spiraling around in his head. Is he wondering where I am? Does he care? Does he notice how clean the place is? He should... the contrast from earlier is almost shocking. I'm about as tidy as a toddler at a glitter party; it's scientifically impossible for him not to notice the change. But then again, he's a man, and men are half-blind when it comes to observation.

I stay cooped up in my room for another hour before starvation sets in. I haven't decided what I'll do for dinner. I've always cooked dinner for Seth, and then just left his plate in the oven for when he would get home. But, he's actually home this time. An uncharacteristic wave of nerves zaps me into action. I'm not usually nervous, but having my husband breathing down my neck while I prepare his meal doesn't sound appealing.

I trudge my way down the hall, wood planks creaking beneath each step as I make my way to the kitchen. I have to bypass the living room to do so, and I catch Seth's eye for just a moment. I smile and nearly laugh at his sad attempt to mimic my action. It's more like a quick flick of his lip that's supposed to signify a smile, yet it comes off as more of a grimace.

"Hi," I say as I pass.

"Hey," he mutters to my back. I turn slightly to see his eyes still glued to the tv. He couldn't even spare me a glance.

I suddenly have this undeniable desire to run and jump on him. Not in a mad gorilla-woman kind of way, but in an I-want-to-smother-you-with-my-love kinda way. In my imagination, I see his arms circling me as his fingers poke tickles into my stomach. I'm laughing. He's laughing. There's joy and love filling our home. The heavy gloom of disinterest evaporates from the room like magic.

It's strange that emptiness can feel so heavy, but it does. As the dream vanishes from my mind, I'm hit with a sickening hollowness. It nearly buries me beneath its suffocating weight. I just want us to love each other like we used to. I want to be happy. Is that such a difficult request? When did happiness become such a foreign concept for me?

"Are you hungry?" I call from the kitchen, not bothering to look past the counter island where I have a perfect view into the living room. Instead, I begin pulling vegetables out of the fridge, along with a package of frozen minced chicken.