Dark Secrets of the Blind Husband

Yolanda’s voice dripped with flirtation in the delicate cocoon of her ear. “Damien, you mentioned you’d come over once Cherise drifts into slumber. When might that be?”

“I’m a bit weary. When do you think Cherise will doze off?”

“Why not utilize the sleeping pills you’ve prepared? Didn’t you prepare them?”

Cherise offered no reply.

She simply listened, her silence a canvas for Yolanda’s monologue, punctuated by soft utterances of “Mm,” “Ah,” “Okay.”

“Excellent. Let’s convene at our usual haunt tomorrow!”

Confronted with Yolanda’s buoyant tone, Cherise sighed inwardly, rubbing her temples. “Ms. Weiss.”

Finally, Yolanda exclaimed through the line, “You are…”

“I am Cherise.”

With the phone nestled in her palm, Cherise sighed again, her brow furrowing.

While she didn’t consider her initial “hello” particularly loud, it wasn’t muted.

If her voice reached Yolanda’s ears, why did Yolanda persist in this charade?

her softened tone, which could mirror Damien’s deep timbre.

which is evident

intention behind her carefully chosen words was

faint smile. “Ms. Weiss, I presumed your late call was in pursuit of an accord regarding the issue of the

I, too, wish for an amicable

choice of words only muddies the

my husband maintains

Weiss. Rest well. Perhaps in your

Yolanda’s retort, Cherise terminated the

between her and Damien with

No way!

“Finished?”

open at an indeterminate time. Damien stood outside, exuding the scent of tobacco and the chill of

flushed crimson. “You… you heard

“Mhmm.”

the door. His imposing frame once again enveloped Cherise. “My dear little fool, you’ve grown, defending

weakly pushed against him. “I’ve told you I’m not a

you’ll always be my dear, my