Chapter 5 JUST A FUN

it was dinner time. We sat at the dining table. The aroma of roasted chicken and steamed vegetables filled the air, but my appetite was absent.

My fork scraped absently across the surface of my plate, chasing a vegetable I had no intention of eating.

My wife, Eleanor sat across the table, enjoying her meal, cutting her chicken into small pieces.

The pink mark from my fingers was still visible on her face. That looked like it hurts badly, yet this woman remained as calm as a new bride. She plated my food, just as she had always done since our first day of marriage.

This only deepened the pit in my stomach.

I couldn't take it anymore.

"Eleanor," I said, my voice breaking the silence.

She looked up at me and smiled.

"Yes, darling. Is there anything wrong?" she asked, her expression concerned.

I frowned slightly.

"Are you holding something against me?"

Her knife paused mid-motion for just a moment-so brief I wondered if I imagined it-before she set it down neatly and folded her napkin in her lap.

"Why would you think that?" she asked softly, looking genuinely confused.

I hesitated. I didn't know how to explain the unease that had been building inside me since Margaret's death. Her calmness unnerved me.

"Is this because of the slap? I understand-I disrespected you and deserved it," she said, her tone convincing, yet not convincing at all.

What dumb woman in this era will say she deserved a slap?

My throat felt dry, but I forced myself to speak.

"You were... using that toy. Of course, it's offensive, Eleanor. I'm your husband."

She leaned back in her chair, letting out a soft sigh that only made me feel more ridiculous.

"Honey, I didn't mean to offend you," she said gently. "I truly didn't. But..."

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes locking on mine.

"I've been focusing on myself lately-on my self-care, my sexual health. It's something I need to do."

"What does that even mean?" I snapped, my voice rising with frustration. "You're my wife. That's supposed to be something we share. You can't just decide to deny me my matrimonial rights."

She didn't flinch. Instead, she just continued eating her food.

"Honey," she said softly, "why does it really matter? You've been getting what you need elsewhere for years. I've never complained, have I?"

My stomach churned.

"That's not the point," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "We're married. We have responsibilities to each other. Why now? Why, after all these years of knowing-of accepting-you suddenly decide to do this? Why?"

She didn't answer immediately.

For a moment, that dry smile spread across her lips again as her eyes dropped to her plate, toying with her food. When she finally looked back up, meeting my gaze, a chill ran down my spine.

"My sister died, Charles," she said simply.

I froze.

My chest tightened, and my pulse quickened as her words sank in. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

What was I supposed to say to that?

Eleanor's smile grew broader.

"Isn't that reason enough?"

I felt my throat tighten, my mind scrambling to find footing.

"What does that have to do with... us? If you can use a sex toy, then why not..."

She cut me off.

"She was your sweet sister-in-law, right?"

I swallowed tightly.

"Of course. Like a younger sister! So what does that have to-"

She interrupted me again.

"Then I expect you to understand, honey. Don't be like that. I know her death was shocking for you too. We're both still traumatized. But we'll get through it-all of it. I use toys because toys don't have feelings; they can't love or hurt me."

Before I could process her words, she reached over to my plate, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork. She smiled at me.

"Here," she said playfully. "Let me feed you."

I stared at her, my mind spinning.

Her calmness unnerved me, her smile only deepening the pit in my stomach.

Reluctantly, I opened my mouth, letting her place the bite of food between my lips.

As I chewed, the room felt colder, heavier. She kept watching me, her gaze focused on me like a predator, one who loved to smile.

She sighed heavily, resting her head on her palm, her elbow on the table like a teenager admiring her crush.

"Tell me, honey, do you want to get rid of me so you can have peace of mind?"

That statement threw me off.

I choked and coughed, the piece of chicken caught in my throat like it was trying to choke the life out of me.

My chest heaved as I slapped the table, trying to catch my breath.

The glass of water was right there on the table.

My fingers scrambled toward it, but I knocked it over in my rush.

"Eleanor," I rasped, my voice barely audible.

"Water... help."

She just sat there, her chin resting on her hand, watching me with that calm, unbothered expression.

Is this bitch trying to kill me?

I coughed harder, my vision blurring as I pointed to the glass now spilling across the table.

"Eleanor!"

Finally, she got a glass of water and gave to me.

I snatched it up and gulped it down, the cool water finally easing the burning in my throat.

When I caught my breath, I looked up at her.

She was still watching me, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"What do you mean by that question you asked me."

I snapped my heart pounding heavily.

"Got you again," she laughed.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I croaked.

She tilted her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"A scene from that horror movie I watched last night. So I decided to prank you. You always react so perfectly."

I froze, staring at her.

"A prank, you're joking , right?"

She shrugged, picking up her fork and cutting into her chicken.

"Don't take it so seriously, honey. It's just a bit of fun."

"Fun?! Did you say fun?"

I shouted.