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?

tone, which

game, which is evident

behind her carefully chosen words was evident.

“Ms. Weiss, I presumed your late call

too, wish for an

words only muddies the waters

my husband maintains a distance from

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

retort,

her and Damien with such crude methods?

No way!

“Finished?”

outside, exuding the scent of tobacco and the chill of the

checks flushed crimson. “You… you heard everything?”

“Mhmm.”

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

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

always be my dear,