By admin Hearing my husband’s inner voice Ch 5
By the time Mike came downstairs after his insulin shot, I had placed all the dishes on the table.
His face was somewhat pale, but his lips held a faint smile.
He picked up his chopsticks and reached for the sweet pork knuckle.
I smacked the back of his hand.
Mike had been a young master since childhood, never having to work, so his hands were soft.
Just one hit, and a red mark appeared.
For the first time, Mike’s usually indifferent face showed a hint of hurt.
He put down his chopsticks and sat there like a good boy who’d done something wrong.
He asked softly: “What’s wrong?”
But inside he was thinking: [Didn’t she say this dish was made for me?]
[Is she angry that I went upstairs instead of helping her, and now doesn’t want me to eat it?]
[Is she going to ask for a divorce?]
Mike’s pupils dilated slightly with panic.
I smacked the red mark again, interrupting his wild thoughts.
I placed some purple sweet potato and yam balls in his bowl:
“Don’t eat such sweet food when your health isn’t good. These lighter dishes taste good too.”
Mike stared silently at the two balls, his face turning slightly pink.
In an instant, he transformed from a defensive little hedgehog into a shy puppy.
He picked up his chopsticks and served me some beer-braised duck: “Baby, you eat too.”
With a straight face, I took the duck meat and put it in my mouth.
After chewing a bit, I frowned.
Sure enough, I’d added too much beer earlier.
Otherwise, why would my earlobes be getting warm after just one piece?