Monday morning meets us scrambling to get my belongings to the car. Ma is the only one awake, after a quick greeting and kisses to my cheeks, I hurry down to the car to wait for Brandon. He seems testy, he didn't kiss or hug me good morning. For now, I am keeping mute, I have no intentions of ruining the memories of yesterday, our lazy day. Operation Reassure Brandon is still in the works but my head is empty, idea tank dry. How do I convince my husband he deserves the best life has to offer? I tug on the sleeve of the woollen sweater Ma handed to us, my eyes droop and I struggle to stay awake. The door opens, I shoot up and relax when I see Brandon. "What took you so long?" He flashes a grin that should have appeased me, I scowl. "Why do we have to leave early?""Your mother. She wanted to talk to me."Sleep disappears from my eyes, my head snaps in his direction and he starts the car. I know Ma no long

Brandon is clingy. No, I am clingy. I don't want my husband to leave me for work. My grip on his arm tightens, he groans into my ear, kissing away my resistance until I let go."You are leaving me," I say.Another kiss lands behind my ear, trailing to my neck, my jaw and my lips. "To work, wifey." Rolling to my back, my robe opens, he cups one of my overly sensitive breasts and kneads the nipple. I suck in a ragged breath. "So I can have enough money to spoil you." I snicker.Unable to resist him, my eyes fly open and I thrust my tongue into his mouth. I pour my emotions into the kiss, kissing him fast and then slow until he pulls back to stare into my eyes. Shrugging off my robe, I fold my legs at the knees while my fingers move to the waistband of his boxers which I tug on until he grabs my hands above my head. My legs lock around his waist, my hips jerk forward and my crotch brushes his bulge. He hisses."I'll be

August fifteen. My eyes narrow at the digits circled in red ink on my phone screen. Is Josh right? Sinking my teeth into my lip, I contemplate redialing his number. Brandon's birthday is on the fifteenth, tomorrow, not the fourteenth like Josh was kind enough to point out. My hand grows clammy, I rub it on my nightgown and spare Brandon a look.Sprawled on the bed with his head buried into the pillow, fast asleep like a child and oblivious to my confusion. A pang of jealousy shoots through me when he rolls onto his stomach and hides his face in the pillow. It will be a while before I can sleep on my back or stomach. Contrary to what the doctor said, I cannot get used to sleeping on my side. Maybe in a few more weeks, I might adjust to it, now, it’s a punishment. Sleeping on my back feels like a luxury I abused, every position is comfortable long enough for me to get tired and upset. They should have asked questions, told me the nitty-gritty in

Counting doesn't work. Walking also fails. Sleep has fled from me. I retire to the bed, lying on my side while staring wide-eyed into the darkness with the cover tucked under my chin. We have had our quarrels but I never had to sleep alone when he is around.Tears silently roll down my cheeks, I stiffen when the cover is lifted and a firm chest presses into my back. I maintain my frigidity when he spoons me, placing a hand on my hip. Soaking the pillow with my tears, I dig my nails into my palm to stop from sniffing. Brandon doesn't need to know how much his actions hurt me, he is a terrible husband.Thankful for the darkness hiding my face when his fingers brush my wet cheek, I freeze. "Wifey, stop crying. It's not good for our baby." He wipes my residue tears. "El, please.""You left me."Breathing heavily on my neck, Brandon leans over to place a kiss on my forehead. And I have to squeeze my eyes shut to rein my

The blazer I hold against Brandon's torso doesn't suit him, I shake my head and return it to the wardrobe, walking back to him a while later with another jacket. An exercise we have been going at for fifteen long minutes. If the tensing of Brandon's shoulders and his pointed stare are signs to go by, he will snap soon. I want him to look his best, that's all.Joshua insisted I dressed nice but nice in a billionaire's vocabulary could mean a lot of things and I want his parent to have the best first impression of me. Other daughters-in-law have their husbands guidance on their choice of outfit, mannerisms yet here I am fussing over my husband and the meeting with his parents. They must think me a snub.I called them only once, to invite them for the dinner. They promised to keep in touch and they haven't, so, the blames can be equally distributed. The hand clamped on my wrist stops me from retreating to the wardrobe for another outfit. His mouth is p