I’m married.

But he hasn’t touched me in months. Not like this. Not like her.

With her, I don’t have to fake sleep. I don’t flinch when hands reach with no hunger behind them.

She touches me like I’m made of something rare. She holds me like she’s honouring me.

And when she pressed against my back and whispered, “Let me show you what you deserve…”

I let go. Of guilt. Of rules. Of the life I’ve been enduring.

I took the picture. Because I want to remember what it feels like to be wanted.

And maybe… I don’t mind if he sees it.