GLORIA

I don’t know what came over me when I got back home. Maybe it was the silence of the house, maybe it was the fact that my knees were still weak from him, but I couldn’t stop giggling.

Like some schoolgirl with a dirty secret, I sat on the edge of my bed and laughed until tears blurred my eyes.

I had prayed. God knows I had prayed. Every night, begging for strength, for patience, for my husband to notice me, to touch me, to love me like a woman deserved. And every night I went to ...