Incomplete perfection
Chapter 1
Six months after my C–section, I was ready to
get intimate again.
My husband, Liam, insisted I needed more
time to heal, so we hadn’t been together for a
year.
That is, until I accidentally clicked on his DMs
with a social media influencer.
The woman’s message was accusatory:
“Honey, I miss you so much! I’m not happy
without you.”
She continued, “Have you…been with her
lately?”
His reply was dismissive: “No, you know I…”
He trailed off, then changed the subject: “I
bought you a new perfume. Try it out.”
Seeing that intimate gift, I assumed it was
Liam’s way of hinting at a special night for
<
- us.
I put on a sexy lace nightgown, excited for
what the evening held.
Little did I know it was a hint, but not for me.
I calmly scrolled through their chat history,
which was filled with explicit messages and
eager plans to meet.
It was hard to believe that the man who
always acted so proper with me was this
flirtatious in private.
I felt sick to my stomach.
I checked the girl’s profile name: “LilBoat.”
Liam’s profile name was “BigBoat.”
I followed her from my own account.
The doorknob turned, and I quickly put my
phone down.
Liam walked in, drying his hair.
He saw the perfume in my hand and froze,
then smiled. “For you. Do you like it?”
I stared at him. His eyes were clear, without a
<
If I hadn’t seen those messages, I would have
believed he was just surprising me.
For the first time, I realized my childhood.
sweetheart and husband could lie so
effortlessly, so convincingly.
Feigning surprise, I held up the perfume.
“What made you think of getting me
perfume?”
“It’s a holiday. I wanted to do something
special.”
He stepped closer to hug me, but I subtly
moved away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled.
I sniffed the perfume, my voice coy. “Hold on,
let me try it and see if I like the scent.”
“Okay.” He smiled and patted my head.
I locked myself in the bathroom with the
perfume.
Divorce? The thought crossed my mind, but I
couldn’t bear it.
く
We’d known each other since elementary
school.
Decades of shared history weren’t easy to let
go of.
I dried my face and opened LilBoat’s profile.
Her latest post, from earlier that day, was a
photo of a romantically decorated room.
The caption read: “Everything’s ready. Just
waiting for you [heart emoji].”
I touched the jagged scar on my stomach, a
permanent reminder of my C–section.
What I once considered a badge of love, Liam
now called “unsightly.”
Liam’s voice called from the bedroom. “Why
aren’t you wearing the perfume?”
“It’s too strong,” I replied casually. “Not really
my style.”
He nodded, seemingly uninterested, and went
back to his phone.
I walked over and hugged him from behind,
my face pressed against his broad back,
searching for a flicker of familiar warmth.
“Liam, it’s been so long…”
His body stiffened. He didn’t turn around.
“Later, Chloe. I’m too tired from work.”
“But I want to…..”
He turned, his eyes filled with exhaustion and
impatience.
“Chloe!” he snapped.
The outburst was like a bucket of ice water,
extinguishing my desire.
He really was saving himself for another
woman.
Seeing my reaction, Liam softened his tone.
“Chloe, what’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?”
I stared into his familiar eyes. They used to
reflect only me, but now they were clouded,
unreadable.
