Iām married.
But he hasnāt touched me in months. Not like this. Not like her.
With her, I donāt have to fake sleep. I donāt flinch when hands reach with no hunger behind them.
She touches me like Iām made of something rare. She holds me like sheās honouring me.
And when she pressed against my back and whispered, āLet me show you what you deserveā¦ā
I let go. Of guilt. Of rules. Of the life Iāve been enduring.
I took the picture. Because I want to remember what it feels like to be wanted.
And maybe⦠I donāt mind if he sees it.
Because maybe Iām going to talk him into wearing a cage for me first.














