After marrying my childhood friend, we were like polite strangers. He was a man of few words, and I was cold by nature. Our marriage bed remained untouched. What I didn't know was that he could hear my every thought. In the bedroom, I watched him, fresh from the shower, with a placid, emotionless expression. But inside, my mind was racing: Would making love to him send me into a dead faint? 1 He’d probably rock my world. What was it that book Marcia showed me said...? Something about your vision blurring... About your mind going completely blank. James’s foot slipped on the wet floor, and he nearly crashed to the ground. I lunged forward to steady him. "Are you okay?" Why won't that towel just fall? What's he hiding under there? It's not like a quick peek is going to make anything fall off. God, those muscles are perfect. His fingers are so long, too. "I'm fine." James’s words tumbled out, fast and clipped, as if he were trying to stop a runaway train. He clutched the towel tightly around his waist. "Sorry, I couldn't find my bathrobe, only this..." Of course you couldn't. I threw it out. It's probably been shredded at the dump by now. Tomorrow, the towel goes, too. I released my grip on him and said coolly, "Be more careful next time." "...Right." 2 James changed into his pajamas and slipped into bed. I pretended to flip through a book, my eyes darting towards him from the corner of my vision. He was wearing a dark, long-sleeved pajama set. An old, worn-out tee would be better. Easier for a little late-night groping. A shame I'd only ever dare to touch him while he's asleep. I'm too scared he'd wake up. God, I'm tempted to slip him a sleeping pill. Then I could have my way with him. I stared blankly at the words on the page. James, who had just settled in, suddenly threw back the covers and got out of bed. I feigned surprise. "Not sleeping?" "Been having trouble sleeping lately. Going to take a sleeping pill." I didn't think much of it and went back to my book. When James returned, he was wearing a different shirt. It was that old, worn-out tee. "It's too hot," he explained. I gave a faint, "Mm," in response. He lay down, and perhaps it really was too hot for him. He only pulled the covers up to his navel. One arm was bent behind his head, displaying a broad chest with muscle contours so defined it was hard to look away. He looked better than any of the heroes in my romance comics. He fell asleep quickly. I thoughtfully turned the AC down a few degrees. After reading for a little while longer, I turned off the light and went to sleep. In the suffocating darkness, James’s eyes slowly opened. He turned to look at me, his expression a complicated mess. I was fast asleep, breathing softly, my eyes shut tight. There was no groping. No mind-melting climax. Only James, lying awake, staring into the darkness until dawn. The next morning, I stumbled out of the bedroom, still half-asleep. The delicious aroma of breakfast being cooked by our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, wafted from the kitchen, instantly waking my appetite. I obediently took a seat at the table. Today, it was thin sweet potato crepes and a freshly made smoothie. Mrs. Gable beamed at me. "How is it, dear?" My mouth was too full to answer, so I just nodded enthusiastically. "Don't choke, now," she chuckled, placing the smoothie in front of me. "My own sons won't even touch my cooking anymore." She sighed, a familiar lament whenever she spoke of her children. "They don't know what they're missing," I mumbled through a mouthful of crepe. Mrs. Gable was genuinely fond of me. Though I appeared cold on the surface, my eyes would light up like a firework display whenever I tasted something delicious. It gave her a real sense of accomplishment. "By the way, where's James? He's not usually up this late." "He took a sleeping pill last night." A sleeping pill? Mrs. Gable thought back to her morning cleaning routine. The bottle of sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet had looked untouched. The lid on the instant coffee, however, hadn't been screwed on tight. 3 I hadn't expected James to sleep all the way until the afternoon. Even after all that rest, he still had dark circles under his eyes. His sleep quality must be terrible. Good thing I kept my hands to myself last night, or he'd be even worse off. I should probably behave myself from now on. James, who had his back to me, suddenly spun around. He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. "I slept great." "?" And what does that have to do with me? He turned away again, ignoring me. Men. So moody. Annoying. The bedroom door slammed shut with a sharp crack. That evening, the high school group chat lit up. The class president was organizing a reunion. My best friend, Marcia, called me. "Lynn! You're going, right?" "Yeah, I'm free." Marcia and I met in high school and, by a stroke of luck, ended up at the same university. We've been inseparable ever since. "What about your husband? Is he coming?" Her voice was loud enough to carry. I glanced up at James, who was sitting across from me. He opened his mouth to speak. Don't you dare say yes. The last thing I want is to bring him. James closed his mouth. He gave a slight shake of his head. Satisfied, I told Marcia, "He's not coming." Marcia sounded relieved on the other end. "Oh, good. Because Jason will be there. You know, your old high school flame? Remember him? He's been single ever since you two broke up. I heard he still wears that beaded bracelet you gave him." Her voice was crystal clear. "...I see." I replied, my own voice suddenly feeling dry. "Okay, well, great! Next Tuesday, 7 PM. Don't be late!" The call ended. Seeing how calm and composed James looked, the flicker of unease in my heart vanished. What am I worried about? He wouldn't care if I actually cheated on him, let alone over something so small... "No!" James’s expression turned icy in an instant. I jumped, startled, and stared at him, bewildered. What is his problem?! His eyes met mine, and his brow twitched. The tension in his face relaxed. "I meant... I don't think Mrs. Gable's cooking is any good." Mrs. Gable, who had rushed in with a spatula in hand, stood frozen. "?" 4 Before I left on Tuesday, James spent an eternity in front of the mirror. From head to toe, every detail was perfect. He was already handsome, with a body like a clothing mannequin. All this primping just made him even more eye-catching. Marcia always says a man who dolls himself up like that is probably looking for a mistress. James’s hand, poised to spray his hair, froze mid-air. He sheepishly put the can of hairspray down. Turning, his gaze landed softly on my shoulders. "It'll be cold tonight. You should take a shawl." "It's going to be eighty-five degrees." "...Drive safe." When I arrived at the reunion, the private room was already packed. Marcia waved me over. I sat down next to her. She nudged me, whispering, "Look at his hand." Jason had shed some of his boyishness, replaced by a confident ease as he chatted with others. He held a glass in his right hand, and as his sleeve slid back, it revealed a faded, old beaded bracelet. A cheap trinket I’d bought him from a street vendor across from our high school. In high school, James was in the class next to mine. We weren't close, our bond barely held together by the thread of having grown up together. We hardly spoke at school. But his mom was always asking him to bring me things, and he’d wait for me by my classroom door every day after school. Over time, everyone just assumed we were a thing. Then they started to misunderstand what kind of "thing" we were. I tried to explain a few times, but no one listened, so I gave up. Then, one day, the rumors just stopped. Because of Jason. He took every opportunity to set the record straight for me, more fervently than I ever had. Under his relentless campaign, our classmates grew bored of the gossip and finally left us alone. To thank him, I treated him to a milkshake at the shop across the street after school. It was the first time I hadn't walked home with James. When I told him, James didn't say much. He just nodded once and left. Jason was James’s complete opposite. He was warm and bright, his heart always on his sleeve. If he was happy, you knew it. If he was upset, you knew that too. On his eighteenth birthday, he confessed his feelings for me. I didn't really understand what it meant to like someone or not. But on the thirty-fifth time he asked me to be his girlfriend, I finally agreed. He pestered me relentlessly, begging me to say I liked him. Worn down, I finally gave in. "Fine. I like you." As the words left my mouth, I saw him. James. He was standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, his handsome features cast in shadow. The setting sun made his dark hair look soft and fluffy, rimmed with a golden halo. His expression was distant, impossible to read. I felt a pang of embarrassment. Jason, one hand in his pocket, the other holding my backpack—which still had the little rabbit keychain James had given me—smiled with a wild, triumphant grin. "Hey, James. Lynn and I are together now. I'll be walking her home from now on. Thanks for all your help before. I'll buy you dinner sometime." James stared at Jason, his lips pressed into a thin, straight line. Even someone as dense as me could feel the tension crackling in the air. I walked over and tugged on Jason's arm, turning to James. "James, I'll be home late. Can you let my parents know?" "...Sure." After that day, I never walked home with James again. 5 Everyone in our class knew about my history with Jason. But they also knew I was married, and they tactfully avoided bringing up the past. One classmate, who wasn't in on the gossip, noticed the bracelet on Jason's wrist. "Man, Jay, you're doing so well for yourself. Why are you still wearing a cheap thing like that?" The room fell silent for a beat. All eyes flickered between me and Jason. "It was a gift from someone important," Jason said, his voice smooth. "It's priceless." The classmate nodded, understanding. "Ah, well, then you gotta treasure it." Jason rubbed the red bead on the bracelet, his gaze drifting over to me, a little too casually. Halfway through the night, I slipped out to use the restroom. When I came out, Jason was there, waiting. He stood with his hands in his pockets, the top button of his shirt undone. "Long time no see." I glanced at the sinks. "This isn't the best place to catch up." "Then let's go somewhere else." "We're not exactly on 'catching up' terms." Jason didn't seem surprised by my response. "Lynn, you haven't changed a bit. Just as calm and direct as when you broke up with me. You're just like him, your precious childhood friend." My relationship with Jason ended the summer after our senior year. There was no dramatic reason. He was going to study abroad, a decision made by his family. When I suggested we break up, he was incredulous. "I'm not going to be gone forever. I'll be back as soon as I'm done with school. Why do we have to break up?" "The future is too unpredictable. I don't like it." His brow furrowed, a hint of resentment in his voice. "We have something great. We should be able to face the future's uncertainties together. Lynn, why won't you sacrifice a little for me?" I calmly retorted, "Why shouldn't you be the one to sacrifice for me?" He was speechless. We both chose our own paths. We went our separate ways and never saw each other again. "You married James, didn't you?" Jason asked, following me down the hall. I nodded. "Why? You didn't even like him in high school. You thanked me for clearing up those rumors about you two." "I don't dislike him." Jason seemed unwilling to let it go, his eyes boring into me. "But a quiet, withdrawn guy like James is all wrong for you. He's cold, and you're cold. How does that even work for a married couple?" My footsteps faltered. It was James. He stood at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, clean forearms. His gaze lingered on Jason for a moment, his eyes darkening.
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