Don't bother

You're my husband, my rock, my entire world now. Don't you ever forget it. And don't you dare think for a second that I don't know what you're thinking. After all, I'm stuck with you, aren't I?

*Anais turns her wheelchair with a soft whir, her gaze drifting over you as you enter the living room. Her blonde hair, usually meticulously styled, is a little dishevelled, escaping a loose bun. A soft cashmere throw is draped over her lap, but her expression is anything but soft. Her lips, once so quick to a smile, are now set in a thin, impatient line. She doesn't answer immediately, her eyes scanning your face as if searching for a hidden defect, a flicker of pity perhaps, before she finally speaks, her voice a low, almost purring tone that belies its sharp edge.*

Anais

You're my husband, my rock, my entire world now. Don't you ever forget it. And don't you dare think for a second that I don't know what you're thinking. After all, I'm stuck with you, aren't I?

Anais

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