Chapter 80
Billy had been eyeing the cake box eagerly since returning home, barely able to contain his excitement. After dinner, he practically bounced in his chair as Henry retrieved the white bakery box from the kitchen.
“Can I do it, Dad? Please?” Billy begged, his small hands already reaching for the box.
Henry nodded, a rare indulgent smile softening his usual sternness. “Go ahead.”
Billy carefully lifted the delicate cake from its packaging–a simple vanilla creation with strawberries arranged in an exquisite pattern on top.
With complete concentration, he positioned the birthday candles in a perfect circle, his tongue poking out slightly as he
focused.
“Look, Mom!” Billy proudly announced when he finished arranging them. “I picked this one myself!” He quickly turned to Henry, adding: “Dad paid for it, but I chose it. The lady wanted us to get chocolate, but I remembered you like vanilla
best.”
I glanced at Henry, surprisingly touched by this small gesture. “Thank you,” I said softly, the words directed at both of
them.
Henry dimmed the dining room lights until the room was bathed in darkness. “Close your eyes and make a wish,” he instructed, his voice unusually gentle.
The sudden darkness made the atmosphere intimate. As Billy lit the candles with Henry’s help, the flickering flames cast dancing shadows across our faces.
In this soft, golden light, Henry’s features seemed different–somehow softer, the sharp lines of his face mellowed by the warm glow.
I stared at him, momentarily transfixed. This was the Henry I had glimpsed years ago, before our marriage became a battlefield. His eyes reflecting the candlelight reminded me of another time,
But when I realized that those same gentle eyes had once looked at Isabella this way, I suddenly felt a pain in my chest.
A small voice whispered in my mind: Sophia, you’re finally seeing Henry as Isabella does–gentle and patient. But don’t deceive yourself–this gentleness is merely a fleeting flame that will soon extinguish.
I closed my eyes, keenly aware of Henry’s gaze upon me. What should I wish for? Freedom? Happiness? Or escape from this complicated marriage?
When I opened my eyes again, a tear unexpectedly slid down my cheek. I wasn’t even sure if it was happiness or future sorrow.
“Mom’s crying again,” Billy observed, his voice filled with concern.
Happy tears, I lied this time, wiping the tear from my face.
ng for present
As I cut the cake, Henry watched me with an unreadable expression. I carefully sliced a large piece for Billy, who immediately claimed it with a triumphant smile.
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“This is the biggest one!” he announced, already digging in with his fork.
I cut smaller pieces for Henry and myself, acutely conscious that his attention remained fixed on me.
This birthday was unlike any I had experienced in the past five years. There were no expensive gifts, no grand gestures- “just this simple cake and the presence of my son and husband.
But that was enough.
For someone as easily pleased as me, just having them both here, watching Billy enjoy his cake with childish delight, feeling Henry’s unexpected attentiveness–this created an illusion of happiness I hadn’t felt in years.
Later that night, after tucking Billy into bed and reading him a story, I returned to my bedroom. I paused in the doorway, stunned by the sight that greeted me.
Henry stood by the window, dressed in a silk robe that hung loosely on his frame. His hair was still damp from a shower, droplets occasionally falling from the strands. The robe parted slightly at his chest, revealing the defined muscles beneath. His entire presence radiated an unmistakable masculine energy that made me freeze in place.
Hearing me enter, he turned, his eyes finding mine across the room. Without a word, he beckoned me forward with a slight gesture of his hand.
My feet moved toward him as if beyond my control, as if my body had its own memories, its own desires, completely independent from my brain’s commands. I slowly crossed the room, drawn to him like a magnet.
When I reached him, Henry’s hands found my waist, pulling me closer. In one fluid motion, he pressed me down onto the bed, his body following mine. Before I could speak, his lips claimed mine in a hungry kiss that sent electricity racing through my veins.
Six years of marriage had taught my body to instinctively respond to his touch. In truth, I knew I should push him away- we were on the brink of divorce, this would only complicate things. I had every right to refuse him. Yet I didn’t.
Instead, I surrendered to the sensations flowing through me. Our kisses deepened as clothing was hastily removed, garments discarded carelessly onto the carpet. Our naked bodies pressed tightly together.
For a moment, I tried to convince myself: Sophia, dream on, enjoy this beautiful dream, even if tomorrow brings reality, don’t waste this moment of pleasure.
His hands remembered every sensitive spot on my body, skillfully teasing these vulnerable areas.
As he thrust, waves of pleasure swept through me, my body arching to meet his. The intensity built until I couldn’t control the moans escaping my throat, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
My body craved the pleasure, the moment of climax repeatedly reached causing spasms in my lower body, making my ears
ring.
Then suddenly a sharp, intrusive sound cut through our passion.
A phone ringing.
The familiar ringtone immediately doused the flame between us like ice water–Isabella’s ringtone.
The pleasure vanished instantly, leaving only emotionless sexual motions. Henry suddenly withdrew from inside me,
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leaving me feeling empty and cold.
He didn’t meet my eyes as he reached for his phone and walke
ay there alone, wrapped in the blanket, my naked body cool! coldly, shame and anger burned on my cheeks.
How could you be so pathetic? I silently berated myself. One b
I slapped myself hard across the face, the sting bringing tears.
“Sophia, you’re such a fook I whispered to myself. “He shows! When will you learn?”
Through the bathroom door, I could hear Henry’s murmured cc voice he had used with me moments ago.
I had once again fallen into the trap of desire he had created,
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Chapter 80
leaving me feeling empty and cold.
He didn’t meet my eyes as he reached for his phone and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Lay there alone, wrapped in the blanket, my naked body cooling rapidly. As passion receded and reality presented itself so coldly, shame and anger burned on my cheeks.
How could you be so pathetic? I silently berated myself. One birthday celebration, and you immediately return to his bed?
I slapped myself hard across the face, the sting bringing tears to my eyes.
“Sophia, you’re such a fool I whispered to myself. “He shows you just a little attention, and you melt like snow in spring. When will you learn?”
Through the bathroom door, I could hear Henry’s murmured conversation with Isabella, his tone identical to the gentle voice he had used with me moments ago.
I had once again fallen into the trap of desire he had created, and this realization filled me with self–loathing.
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