Blooming Wisterias and Painted Scars
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Listing Series
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Summary
My husband does not like me.
I can see it in the way he gazes at me. His deep, brown irises the color of burnished oak has a perpetual layer of frost in them.
I can see it in the way his lips curl. The thin, cherry blossom pink corners lift into a disdainful smirk whenever I pass him by as if my mere existence is a cruel joke played onto him by the gods.
He does NOT like me.
Series
- Part 1 of Blooming Wisterias and Painted Scars
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Summary
“Hello, wife.”
My wife does not look at me. Not anymore. But I do. I gaze at her. I always do.
And perhaps a simple "hello" is what it will take for her to gaze back at me once more too.
Series
- Part 2 of Blooming Wisterias and Painted Scars