I Don't Love Her Anymore, She Regrets It

When I got home, I took a shower and then settled in with a plate of fruit while binge-watching a show.

I used to handle all the housework, including cooking, laundry, and cleaning, so I barely had time to watch TV.

It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed TV like this.

After finishing two episodes, I was drowsy and fell asleep in bed.

Half-asleep, I heard the door open and footsteps, followed by her calling my name.

“David?”

Seeing me deep in sleep, she slapped my face lightly.

I rubbed my eyes and looked up. “You’re back?”

She looked momentarily surprised, frowning at me with what seemed like irritation.

I couldn’t figure out why she was upset. Was she annoyed that I didn’t interrogate her about why she stood me up or why she was with Howard? Was she expecting me to doubt their relationship and start another endless argument?

It was a joke.

In the past, when I was hysterically upset, she would criticize me for being petty, looking at me like I was a clown. Now that I wasn’t upset anymore, why was she the one getting mad?

“I’m sorry. Howard had a depressive episode, and I was afraid he might do something drastic, so I had to cancel on you,” she said.

I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Get some rest. You have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

I waved my hand dismissively.

She said anxiously, “He’s really in a dangerous state. I couldn’t get away…”

I glanced at the time.

Without letting her finish, I interrupted.

“It’s fine. Get some rest. You have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

Without waiting for her to finish, I interrupted and buried my head under the covers, going back to sleep.

I needed to get enough rest to recover quickly.

Seeing my reaction, she paused briefly, sighed, and then went to the bathroom to wash up.

I quickly fell into a deep sleep. It was the best sleep I’d had in years, and I didn’t even notice when she finally got into bed.