本棚
検索
ホーム / Romance / I MARRIED A MAN WHO CAN’T FEEL LOVE / CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

共有

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

作者: Bellacobbs
last update 公開日: 2026-05-01 20:15:14

My mother cooked the way she did everything.

Without asking what you wanted. Without offering options. She decided what was needed and she made it and she put it in front of you and the decision was already made by the time you sat down.

Egusi. Rice. Fried plantain on the side because she knew I loved it and had never once needed to be reminded. A bowl of pepper soup for the road cold she said we had brought in with us even though neither of us had sneezed.

Adrian sat at the table.

He ate witho
この本を無料で読み続ける
コードをスキャンしてアプリをダウンロード
前のチャプター 次のチャプター
ロックされたチャプター

最新チャプター

  • I MARRIED A MAN WHO CAN’T FEEL LOVE   CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

    My mother cooked the way she did everything.Without asking what you wanted. Without offering options. She decided what was needed and she made it and she put it in front of you and the decision was already made by the time you sat down.Egusi. Rice. Fried plantain on the side because she knew I loved it and had never once needed to be reminded. A bowl of pepper soup for the road cold she said we had brought in with us even though neither of us had sneezed.Adrian sat at the table.He ate without commentary.Not performatively. Not carefully. Just ate. The way a person eats when they are actually hungry and the food in front of them is good and they have the sense to know it.My mother watched him from the corner of her eye the way she watched everything she had not yet decided about.He refilled his own plate once.I saw the moment she decided.It was not the refilling. It was the way he did it. Without asking. Without making a show of the compliment it implied. Just reached for the

  • I MARRIED A MAN WHO CAN’T FEEL LOVE   CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

    We left on Friday morning before the heat settled in.He carried both bags to the car without asking. I had one. He had one smaller than I expected for a man who kept everything in its exact place. Like he had packed the way he did everything. Precisely. Without excess.I sat in the passenger seat.He started the car.The city moved past us slowly at first. The particular morning texture of streets not yet fully awake. Hawkers setting out. Gates opening. A woman balancing a tray on her head with the ease of someone who had never once considered dropping it.I watched it all through the window.He drove the way he drove. Both hands. Eyes forward. Unhurried.We did not speak for the first twenty minutes.Not the weighted silence. Not the kind with edges. Just two people sitting with the morning and letting the road be what it was.“She will feed you immediately,” I said.He glanced at me.“My mother,” I said. “Before anything. Before questions or conversation or looking at you properly.

  • I MARRIED A MAN WHO CAN’T FEEL LOVE   CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

    I read until the lamp started to feel like the only thing in the world.Not long. Four letters. Maybe five. Her handwriting was unhurried and I did not rush it. I read the way the words asked to be read. Like they were still being said by the person who wrote them rather than by me. Like I was just the mouth they were passing through.She wrote the way she apparently laughed.With her whole self.Not performing for the paper. Thinking on it. Working things out. Asking questions she did not always answer. Saying I do not know yet the way people say it when they mean it entirely and are not afraid of the not knowing.I read.He did not move.At some point I looked up.His eyes were still closed. His breathing had changed. Not sleep exactly. Something between sleep and stillness. The particular state of a body that has finally allowed itself to stop bracing.I finished the letter I was on.Closed the book carefully.Set it on the floor beside me.The room was very quiet.I looked at the

  • I MARRIED A MAN WHO CAN’T FEEL LOVE   CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

    I heard him at two in the morning.Not the sitting room lamp this time. Not the couch.His bedroom door. Opening. Closing. Footsteps moving down the hallway. Past my room without slowing. Past the kitchen.To the locked room.The handle. The door. The soft particular sound of it opening and closing behind him.I lay in the dark and listened to the silence that followed.He had been in there before. I knew that. After the faculty dinner when Vivienne’s name had come back into the apartment with him. After difficult evenings. After the days when something had moved through him that the dining table and the newspaper and the precise order of his hours had not been enough to contain.But tonight felt different.Tonight was the night before we left for Enugu.I lay on my back and looked at the ceiling.Thought about what I had said at the dining table. Whatever she sees, she sees. Thought about the look on his face when I said it. The thing that had no management in it. The thing that had

  • I MARRIED A MAN WHO CAN’T FEEL LOVE   CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

    He came home on Wednesday at five.I heard the door. The coat on the hook. The folder on the table. All the same sounds in the same order.I did not come out.I was at my desk. My notes were in front of me. My pen was in my hand. I had been sitting in the same position for forty minutes and had written exactly one sentence that I would probably cross out tomorrow.I heard him move through the apartment. Kitchen. Then the dining table. Then the particular silence of a man sitting down to work.I looked at my one sentence.Crossed it out.The visit to Enugu was in three days. We had not spoken about it again since Monday morning. Not because anything had gone wrong. Just because we had returned to the ordinary rhythm of the apartment and the rhythm had carried us forward without requiring much discussion. Meals. Mornings. The comfortable quiet of two people who had learned each other.But something had shifted under the surface since Monday.Something I could feel without being able to

  • I MARRIED A MAN WHO CAN’T FEEL LOVE   CHAPTER FORTY

    Monday came the way Mondays came. Without asking. Without ceremony. Just the alarm and the light through the window and the sounds of him already in the kitchen before I had fully decided to be awake. I lay there for a moment. The Sunday call was still sitting somewhere in my chest. Not heavy. Not light. Just present. The way things sit when they have found a place in you and have no intention of moving until you do something about them. I got up. Washed my face. Reached for my dress. Came out. He was at the counter. Back to me. The kettle was already on. My cup was on the right side. “Morning,” he said. “Morning,” I said. I sat at the table with my textbook. He moved through the kitchen. The usual sounds. The usual order. And then he set a plate in front of me. I looked at it. Then at him. He was already turning back to the stove. “You did not eat properly yesterday,” he said. “I noticed.” I looked at the plate. Eggs. Bread. A sliced tomato arranged o

続きを読む

あなたも気に入るかもしれません

無料で面白い小説を探して読んでみましょう
GoodNovel アプリで人気小説に無料で！お好きな本をダウンロードして、いつでもどこでも読みましょう！
アプリで無料で本を読む
コードをスキャンしてアプリで読む
DMCA.com Protection Status