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?

her softened tone, which could mirror Damien’s deep

knowingly played this game, which is evident in

her carefully chosen words

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

I, too, wish for an

of words only muddies the

my husband

“It’s late, Ms. Weiss. Rest well. Perhaps in your dreams, you’ll succeed

for Yolanda’s retort, Cherise

her and Damien with such crude methods?

No way!

“Finished?”

an indeterminate time. Damien stood outside, exuding the scent of tobacco and the chill of the night air, a smile

flushed crimson. “You… you heard

“Mhmm.”

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

pushed against him. “I’ve told you I’m not a fool!”

in my eyes, you’ll always be my dear, my