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“Careful, darling. You wouldn’t want your wife to suspect you of catching feelings.”
“You’re all bark and no bite, my wee wife.” “Oh, I’ll bite,” I reply with fuming anger.
The gift in my lap is wrapped messily, which means he must have done it. He wrapped a present for me.
“I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you’re out of your mind if you think all of this has been pretending. Even when we’re alone. You are my wife, Sylvie. At the end of this year, you can try to leave, and if you piss me off enough, I might let you go. But I have a feeling you won’t. Because I don’t mean nothing to you, and you know it.”
“We’re all a mess, but the trick is to find someone who thinks your mess is a masterpiece. Your parents might be blind fucking eejits, but I’m not. I know a masterpiece when I see it.”
“Just because I can do it without you doesn’t mean I want to.”