Page 5 of I see you Beauty

June furrows her eyebrows, a little taken aback, but nods. Thomas also nods with a bewildered expression on his face.

Still smiling and friendly, I flee to the kitchen with the plates. I just want to get out of there. I’m annoyed that I cleaned so thoroughly earlier because that would take my mind off things.

Thomas is probably already waiting for his glass of wine. So I hurry, clear away the leftover pizza and plates, get the bottle out of our wine fridge, and open it.

I know I’m in for another unpleasant conversation with him tonight because he won’t tolerate me having contact with a man as young as our neighbor. Nor will he tolerate me ruining his dinner. Of course, he would say nothing like that in front of our daughter. June has never heard us argue. Thomas has always been very meticulous about that. I’m glad about this because there are certain things children don’t need to know about their parents.

“Here you go.”

I hand Thomas his wine glass and June a can of Coke before turning away with a smile to go to bed.

“Aren’t you watching with us?” June wants to know.

I shake my head slightly, maintaining the smile that is expected of me. “You two can watch the movie. I’m tired and going to bed early,” I inform her. I turn away after catching a disapproving look from my husband and head upstairs.

Sighing softly, I leave our white-furnished living room, ascend the dark wooden stairs with beige carpeting, and head straight into our bathroom to prepare for bed. Standing before the mirror, I gaze at my reflection and fail to recognize the person staring back at me. Outwardly, I appear unchanged. My long brown curls are neatly tied in a bun, per Thomas’s preference for my exposed neck and throat. Light makeup highlights my high cheekbones, and nude lipstick accentuates my lips. Yet, as I meet my gaze, my green eyes, intensified by black mascara, reflect a sadness that momentarily sends a chill down my spine.

I shake my head to dispel my reflection and push away the oppressive feeling in my chest, then prepare myself and wearily step into our connected bedroom. I don’t even turn on the light and walk through the dark room. Until something unexpectedly makes me pause at the window. A glow of light from Mr. King’s house catches my attention.

This house has been empty for so long. Seeing the light there now is both strange and intriguing. I find myself wondering how the young man has furnished his home. As I consider the house, I step close to my window and kneel on the small windowsill. But when I realize that I might be looking directly into his bedroom, which is directly across from ours, I quickly retreat and hide in the shadows. Oh God! If you had seen me now…

My cheeks glow with shame, and I shake my head repeatedly to dismiss the embarrassment.

I quickly slip into my bed, my heavenly sheets tucked around me, and try to forget everything that happened in the last two days with Ezra King. I must stay away from you…

Chapter Three

After the movie night with June, Thomas stumbles into our bedroom, clearly drunk. Despite his gentle prodding, I manage to feign sleep, knowing he would demand an explanation for last night and expect me to make amends.

But tonight, I can’t bring myself to placate him further. I don’t want to sleep with my husband just to smooth things over. Too often, I’ve allowed this to happen, usually without getting anything out of it myself.

I immediately reprimand myself for this shameful thought because Thomas and I have good sex—even if it is the kind of sex you have after almost twenty years of marriage.

He no longer surprises me or does things that take my breath away like he used to, but he knows me well and knows what I like. After all, we’re no longer in our early twenties when we used to make love around the clock.

As usual, I rise before anyone else. Silently, I get ready in the bathroom and change into fresh clothes. I swiftly dress in a light summer skirt and top, then fetch the newspaper for Thomas so he can read undisturbed during breakfast. I deliberately avoid glancing at the house next door, opting to minimize interactions with the new neighbor as much as possible. It’s simpler this way and will likely spare me further complications.

When I re-enter the house, I prepare breakfast. The coffee machine hums in the background while I fry the bacon and boil the eggs.

After retrieving the baked pastries from the oven, I arrange the table and await the mouthwatering scent that always stirs my family awake, a cherished ritual every weekend. Although June no longer lives with us, she returns home every weekend. She spends her days with her childhood friends, meeting them right after breakfast and not coming back until late in the evening, as she does every weekend.

Thomas doesn’t like it when June goes out, even though she doesn’t drink secretly like other young adults her age. June is very responsible and wants to enjoy her youth. She doesn’t need drugs or alcohol to do that, just her friends and some privacy.

I fully support her and do my best to appease Thomas so he doesn’t cling so much and lets his little girl grow up. God forbid June comes home with a boy one day. She’s never been serious enough to introduce anyone to her dad before. She knows I’m a little more relaxed in general. I only ask her to be careful because I know what it means to become a mother at a young age.

Not that I regret it. God, I don’t regret the decision to become a mother for a second, and if I had had my way, we would have had a few more kids. But Thomas… let’s say one child was enough for him, and because he insisted, I got an IUD.

Footsteps echo from the stairs that lead to the kitchen. A few seconds later, June enters. Her father stomps down the other stairs in the hallway at that moment. My shoulders automatically tense up as his footsteps give me a hint that he’s not in the best of moods. Over the years, it has somehow become second nature to me to analyze my husband’s mood carefully to know what to expect during the day.

“Good morning, Mom,” June greets me, beaming joyfully.

Unlike her father, she’s always in a good mood. Well, almost always. Unless she has to admit to him that she doesn’t want to study law, but she’s pushed that thought aside for today.

“Good morning, you two,” I reply to both of them.

June smiles, but Thomas sits at the table without a word and grumpily grabs his newspaper. I hate being treated as invisible, but naturally, I say nothing about it. Especially not when our daughter is sitting at the table. So I put on my usual beaming smile and talk to June. She tells me about her classes, the girlfriends she misses, and a coffee date with a cute guy. The latter makes Thomas snort contemptuously, but we ignore it.

“Mom, do you need my help clearing the table, or is it okay if I leave early?” June wants to know after breakfast.

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