Entangled Desire

e sound reminded her of the life they shared, sometimes comforting, other times exasperating, but always there. Clarence sat next to her, his shou

electricity of unspoken thoughts. The overhead lamp in the parlor cast soft shadows on the wall, highlighting the subtle lines

er voice still hushed. "You're right. S

time," he said softly. "You seemed like you ha

rriage, her family background, the weight of expectations she'd carried for so long. A part of her wanted to hold it all in; after all, t

ruth is, we've had our share of problems. My parents, especially my mom, well... she always made marriage seem like the ultimate measure of a woma

w Clarence's expression

afloat, but he never really told me he loved me or anything like that. I suppose that's why I'm

"That must've been hard. Did

. They're... old-fashioned. And when I got married to Jide, who's from a more modern, urban backgr

ter, dancing, relatives pressing bright naira notes against her foreh

erything: a supportive wife, a caregiver, even a sounding board for all his problems. Lately, though, it feels like Jide stopped confiding in me. And I s

too felt that burden. "He's under pressure at work,"

ugh now she couldn't recall if she'd switched it off entirely. She was too engrossed in the tension that filled the room. "

ly ragged cadence of her own breath. The words were at the tip of her tongue, the admission she'd never dared speak to

u all of this," she stammered, cheeks flushing.

I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I promise...

inside her broke a little further. "I haven't really had an outlet," she said, her voic

tient, intent. She forced herself to continue, her voice trembling as she conf

er too tired or too distant most nights. It's as if we're drifting apart in every way. We used

feel like I'm starving for affection," she continued, voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that I don't understand

face. "Marian..." he began, his tone low and careful. She realized her brea

ion to her chest. "I shouldn't be talking abou

he reality that Marian's husband was in the next room. The sound reminded her of how precarious this moment was, there she was,

he sensed was just as dangerous as it was comforting. She tried not to stare at the curve of his jaw, the slight st

ut both of you. But I won't pretend I haven't noticed...you feeling alone. I see it in your eyes at the

ng to him, but he shuts down or changes the subject. And, well... a woman has nee

ered if she'd gone too far, if he'd recoil, politely excuse himself, and vow never to come back

arian, I-I'm no expert on marriage, but... I do know what it's like to feel alone." He looked away, as though picking his words care

steeped in possibility and confusion all at once. She swallowed. Am I about to do something I'll regret? The question zinged through h

weren't so tense. She glanced at the hallway again, half expecting Jide to appear in the doorway, bleary-eyed and disoriented. But the sno

ing every micro-movement. She realized that she was doing the same, hearts r

he was terrified? That she was drawn to him in a way that complicated everyth

r ears. She was so aware of him, and of how easily she could tilt her head, bridge the minimal distance,

where the next step could unravel her marriage, her identity, everything she held dear. Yet in that sliver of a mo

" she brea

roken. Clarence pulled his hand back ever so slightly, both of them going stock-still. They held their breath, waiting to see if Jide would walk ou

arence, who looked equally caught between relief and the l

e managed to whisper, biting back the wa

re than words could. . The air around them was thick with tension, with that question

The truth lay between them like a shimmering thread, waiting to be tugged. Even as guilt and common sense battled i