She moved with purpose as she headed straight to the bathroom, the slight hurry in her steps drawing my attention again. The scent wasn't what lingered in my mind this time. It was the way she came inside—quiet, careful, almost hesitant. Suspicious, if I'm honest. But then I caught myself. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was reading too much into it. I don't like being disturbed while I work. Maybe she just didn't want to break my concentration. That could explain the light steps. Maybe she was just being thoughtful. A simple reason to cover something that seemed so complicated in my head.
I closed my eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and forced myself to push those thoughts aside. She had always been considerate, and I had no real proof to doubt her. Maybe this was just my own paranoia playing tricks. I turned back to my desk and dove into my work, determined to finish as much as I could before the day slipped away.
Later, around lunchtime, she appeared again. Quietly, she placed a plate of food on my desk. No big announcement. No questions. Just the soft clink of the plate and the warmth of her presence near me. I liked that. The company made the work less heavy. We started chatting about the projects I was juggling, the deadlines that seemed impossible, and even the little moments of success. It was easy to talk with her today. I ate the food she had brought, the familiar taste somehow soothing, grounding me back into the normalcy I craved.
After lunch, she told me she was going out to buy groceries. I nodded, waved her off, and I went back to my screen, neck bent, fingers typing endlessly. It wasn't until the later part of the afternoon that I finally pushed my chair back and walked to the balcony for some air. The cool breeze brushed against my face, and I stretched out, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind.
That's when I saw her.
She was coming back, groceries in hand, moving toward the door. She probably didn't notice me on the balcony. I watched, almost entranced, as she walked. The way her body moved with effortless grace caught my attention completely. I couldn't help but admire her curves, the natural move of her hips, the subtle bounce of her breasts. It was impossible to look away.
I laughed quietly to myself at the thought: it's really hard to keep your eyes off a woman like her. She could probably turn a gay man straight just by walking past. Those curves, those hips, that confident yet delicate sway—it was a vision. I imagined what others must think when they see her with me. I bet some of them were jealous, maybe even cursing me under their breath. I shook my head, amused by the thought. I mean, look at her—the breasts, the ass—they were worth dying for.
And then, just as I was admiring her, I noticed someone else.
The young guy next door was walking towards her. Maybe he was just heading in the same direction, but as he drew near, something strange happened. As he passed by her, a small box slipped from his pocket and fell onto the ground right in front of her.
The way it happened felt deliberate to me. Too deliberate.
The box hit the floor with a soft thud. My wife stopped and bent down to pick it up, her cheeks tinting a soft pink. Then, without hesitation, she hurried a few steps after the young man.
He glanced back when she called out to him, a puzzled expression crossing his face. She held out the box, silently telling him it was his. The guy's face was a mix of confusion and surprise. "Oh, is that mine?" he muttered, his eyes flickering between the box and my wife.
He didn't take the box right away. He seemed distracted, chatting lightly but not really focused on grabbing it. My wife's body language shifted—she seemed uncomfortable or maybe flustered, but it was hard to tell since I only saw her back from where I was standing.
Finally, he took the box, and she turned back toward the house. I noticed the blush had deepened. She looked uneasy. When she caught sight of me watching, she forced a smile and raised her hands full of groceries, like it was just a normal day. "Look at all this," she said cheerfully.
I swallowed down the swirl of thoughts inside me and went back inside to finish my work. The day felt heavy, and by the time I finally wrapped up, exhaustion took over. I collapsed onto the sofa, rubbing my forehead and complaining about how brutal the workload had been.
I glanced at her, thinking she was quietly listening, but when I turned fully, I saw that she wasn't really there. Her eyes were distant, lost in some deep, unreachable place.
I snapped my fingers near her face, hoping to bring her back to the room, back to me.
She blinked and chuckled softly when I teased her about daydreaming while standing.
For a moment, the tension eased, replaced by her soft laughter. But the doubts still lingered under the surface, like shadows I couldn't shake. The way she walked, the blush, the strange interaction with the neighbor—it all stayed with me, crawling inside my thoughts, refusing to leave.
I wanted to believe everything was fine, but I also couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was slipping away, just out of reach.