My 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?

softened tone, which could mirror Damien’s

which is evident in her calculated

her carefully chosen words

I presumed your late call was in pursuit of an accord regarding the issue of

his spouse, I, too, wish for an

choice of words only muddies the

my husband maintains a distance

“It’s late, Ms. Weiss. Rest well. Perhaps

retort,

her and Damien with

No way!

“Finished?”

open at an indeterminate time. Damien stood outside, exuding the scent of tobacco and the chill of the night air, a smile gracing his lips. “Just like the conduct of Mrs. Lenoir.”

checks flushed crimson. “You…

“Mhmm.”

a smile, Damien entered the car, closing the door. His imposing frame once again enveloped Cherise. “My dear little fool, you’ve grown,

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

be my dear, my