Preservation Of a Broken Flower

She sat on her king sized bed, wearing the black lacy lingerie her husband had bought for her a few years ago, her leg shaking in anticipation. A rare smile made its way onto her chocolate colored face. She had gotten home not long afford after her chat with Leah, her old friend - if one could call her that - and received a text from her husband promising her a very special night. She felt giddy on the inside, like an innocent teenage girl fan-girling over the many popular boy bands these days, sick emotion made her feel content, that maybe her marriage could be fixed, that it could return to its once blissful state.

She continued to wait, seconds turned into minutes which turned into hours until she no longer stands to count the seconds which fueled her shame, the once excited smile drooping to a forced and tired one, she no longer felt content, she felt angry and embarrassed. She yawned, getting up from the bed towards the closet but stopped, hearing the front door open and close with a bang.

Now he decides to come back.

She thought, watching the bedroom door as she waited for him to come through it. The big burly man walked through the door, stopping at the doorway as he spotted her, his eyes taking over her barely covered body, confusion etched onto his face.

' What's this about? ' he asked, his eyebrow arched. She sighed, shaking her head in disapproval as she walked past him, ignoring his question. She entered the closet, changing into her silk summer pajamas before she returned to her, dingo her husband undressing before her. He took off his jacket, then the white shirt, revealing the small muscles underneath, she bit her lip, her eyes tracing over his many tattoos before meeting his aquamarine gorgeous eyes that seemed to pierce through her straight to her soul.

' Like what you see? ' he teased and she smiled, walking towards him and gliding her finger down his abs through the wife beater tank top he wore. She sneaked her hand underneath the tank top, feeling his skin over her skin.

' I've always liked what I saw or else we wouldn't be married. ' he chuckled, rubbing his hands over her shoulders.

' I liked what I saw too ' he said, looking her up and down, mentioning the lingerie she wore. ' I'd like to see more ' now it was her turn to laugh. Giving in to his demands, engaging in a night of passion and lust.

The next day she woke up to an empty bed but a scrumptious smell, intrigued she quickly took a shower and brushed her teeth before walking towards the kitchen, where her husband - with no cooking experience - was frying an egg - well, he tried to fry one.

' Kevin, what are you doing? ' she questioned as she watched her husband shrink away from the stove everytime the oil cackled.

' I wanted to make us a delicious breakfast ' he said, watching her saunter over to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

' But Kevin, you can't cook for shit ' she chuckled, he frowned, pouting like a child. She shook her head, smiling while she tried to resuscitate the egg into edibility. She started at the man she once believed would be her savior. If only it could always be like this. She sighed, raining down negativity on a good morning.

Kevin rolled his eyes, having not felt her shift in emotion. She cleared her throat, pushing down the memories as she served him the plate, he groaned in satisfaction. ' This is why your my wife ' he smiled.

Odd, I thought it was because you love me.

Yet she kept the thought to herself, knowing it would have disastrous consequences, she simply smiled, playing the perfect wife she was so used to putting on in public. She also felt the urge to be snarky and to say ' Funny, I'm still searching for the reason I married you ' but that would have consequences and she had a family dinner later on, she didn't want the daunting task of putting on makeup to hide the bruises.

She instead said. ' Are there any more ' she teased, her voice sultry and suggestive. He chuckled, looking at, staring at her and at that moment, the look in her eyes shocked him, making him question her sanity and his as well.

He then frowned, his eyes darkening with a scary resolve, one she wouldn't be able to get out of her mind. She flinched back knowing the consequences of his mood swings and they were painted throughout her body.

He was fine, what happened?

She questioned herself but what could she do, he wouldn't care for her opinions, wouldn't care for her feelings at the sms of the day she would be bruised and he would sated and in a way it made her happy that she could calm him, even if she became his punching bag.

Mother would proud, would she not.

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