honey [original story]✔️

1.

1980

I groom my lashes in thick coats of mascara, my face so close to the mirror i see every small crevice and crease of my skin. My husband is in the bathroom in the shower, the glass fogged so his toned brown body is not visible to my hungry eyes. Its been weeks since we've made love. Weeks. Tonight is the night we repair our marriage once and for all.

I swipe the crimson lipstick onto my plump lips, which compliments my dark complexion. I step back, looking in the mirror at my bare body, my thighs touching, and my hips larger than usual, as I've been binge eating badly. My thick body has become such the insecurity every time i bring it up, tears slip from my eyes...and especially when i hear it from Michael. I hear the shower turn off, and i sit still, looking into the mirror to see his towel wrapped body stand behind me. He doesn't say anything, yet simply walks past me to the closet, and i sigh, twirling a lock of my newly done Jherri curls, which hang tightly onto my shoulders, and are slightly wet from product.

"Jenelle where are my good jeans? I told you to wash them so they'd be ready by tonight." Michael says bluntly, no longer making use of my nickname i adore. I loved the way it would roll of his tongue with his once sweet voice, and he'd use it as a term of love. 'Honey'.

"They should be in the laundry Michael" i sigh, still staring at my nude body in the mirror, sitting on my knees. He walks past me, yet it feels he walked through me. I stand up, and bring my body to the closet, pulling out a red silk dress that lengths to my knees with a slit up my right leg, hopefully enough to woo him..but not even my naked body can do that.

I spritz on my perfume, the same fierce sent from our wedding day, i always loved it, and he once did too. I fix up my hair in the mirror, twirling and tugging at certain curls to put them in place. Im interrupted my Michael jolting the bedroom door open, with the jeans hoisted over his shoulder, and an bitter look on his face, in which I'm to afraid to comment on.

"I told you, to wash them. Why where they still in the hamper?" Michael tempers, as he starts to slide his boxers on, the boxers he wears when he knows he wont be getting lucky...this is my husband, i know what those black boxers mean.

"I didn't get time, you know i was looking after the neighbours dog for the week." i respire, noticing how he hasn't even looked at me since he's walked in.

"Do you like my dress?" i ask timidly, and he glares my way, before buckling his jeans, "Its nice" he mutters, still fiddling with the zipper. He looks at me from across the room with his brows furrowed, fiddling with the belt of his jeans.

"Why are you upset i said it was nice" he seethed, and i sniffle, but no tears come out. I turn back around to look in the mirror at my short curvaceous body, and his reflection behind me is still on the opposite side of the room, buttoning up his shirt. I take the opportunity, and i strut over to him, trying to look somewhat enticing. I run my fingers down the collar of his shirt, fluttering my lashes.

"Let me button it up" i grin, and he looks at me for a while, and finally agrees. I slowly do the rest of the buttons, and adjust his collar, the fresh sent of his shampoo radiating from him, and i smile, its a smell I recognise and love.

"Im sorry for getting mad" he reckoned, and i shrug, twirling a lock of his hair in my finger. "Its okay" i mutter, forcing a smile. Its not okay.

***

I sit opposite him in the fancy restaurant, the lighting setting the mood accordingly, and i place around the room, looking at smitten couples, looking into each others eyes with lust. i look at Michael, who reads the menu, muttering the words under his breath, a habit he's always done, and I've learnt to love.