u/No_Factor_3131

Anyone know where I can find this story for free? Not on talewave app which is junk...

My wife, who had always struggled with intimacy, attended my hundredth photography exhibition, where I showcased an art piece featuring myself in a close embrace with another woman. The two of us were prominently displayed, completely unfiltered. To my surprise, the inside of her thigh bore a tattoo identical to one of mine. Addressing the guests with assurance, I stated, "This is my first venture into bold, avant-garde art. I owe special gratitude to Emily Bell for her willingness to contribute so significantly to my exhibition." I added, "I hope we continue to collaborate frequently in the future." Watching them holding hands, I didn’t react with the anger I might have felt before. Quietly, I canceled the dinner reservation I had made for our anniversary. After feeling overlooked for four years, I didn't want to engage in this emotional back-and-forth anymore. A notification confirmed the cancellation on my phone. I took one last glance at the stage. Jonas still clung to Emily's hand, laughing and chatting with the guests. For someone who had a strong aversion to physical contact and couldn't even tolerate a gentle touch from his own wife, it was unsettling to see him break those boundaries with someone he'd known for less than three months. The highlight of this hundredth exhibition was supposed to be a photograph of Jonas and me holding hands—a close-up symbolizing our journey from courtship to marriage. It would have marked the first time he agreed to remove his gloves and actually touch me. I had been eagerly anticipating this moment as the staff unveiled the dust cloth covering the frame. Instead, what emerged was a provocative image: Jonas and Emily, bodies intertwined, with only their limbs covering the most intimate parts. Their skin was wrapped in a nearly transparent plastic film, creating a striking yet visually captivating scene. In my shock, I noticed the tattoo on Emily's inner thigh—an exact match to the design on Jonas's abdomen. During the introduction, Jonas claimed that this bold photo was simply an artist's challenge and a breakthrough, a way for someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder to heal himself. His voice was teary as he thanked Emily for her guidance and support over the past months, which had supposedly helped him overcome his fears and anxieties. I couldn’t accept such an absurd explanation. I had given up a successful career abroad to become a full-time homemaker, tending to Jonas's every need. Every day, I cleaned the sheets, curtains, and clothing, ensuring even the plates and utensils we used were labeled to avoid any mix-up. Over four years, I had bent over backward for him, and now, I was truly worn out.

Chapter 2

It was just past three in the morning when I finally wandered back home, a satisfied smile lingering on my face. I didn’t even notice a button had popped off my collar. As I walked in, I found Madison still on the couch. I approached her slowly and gently touched the back of her neck. "I'm sorry," I began, "for switching the artwork at the last minute without consulting you first. I just felt the original piece didn’t pack the punch we needed, and it could have impacted the whole experience." "I promise, next time we have a more fitting theme, I'll make sure to display the work we created together. Does that sound okay?" She looked up at me, her eyes catching sight of the gloves I still wore, so I made sure to keep a bit of distance between us. "Madison," I continued, "today is our fourth wedding anniversary. Why don't you go take a shower first, and then maybe..." She let out a soft laugh. We’d been together for years, yet the simple acts of affection like kissing and hugging, things that should come naturally in a marriage, were things I never initiated. If I ever did, it was usually a way to make up for my shortcomings. Or maybe it was just out of some sense of obligation. Without a word, she picked up a bottle of hand sanitizer from the table, which made me chuckle. As I removed my gloves, I playfully reached for her chin. "It’s okay. My obsession with cleanliness isn’t as bad as it once was. You don't have to be so thorough." Just as my fingers were about to reach her skin, she raised her arm to block me. I looked at her, surprised by her reaction. "Madison, didn’t I tell you that I don’t mind? You don’t have to be so cautious." She shook her head, "No... I mind." Her words hung heavily in the air, and I felt a twitch in my expression, as if I hadn't heard her right. Quickly, I steadied my gaze. "What I said at the photography exhibit was just to add some drama to the project. Did you really think twenty-odd years of OCD would just disappear because of Emily?" "Madison, I thought you weren’t the type to be so uptight. And now you’re giving me the cold shoulder over a photo..." Without replying, she silently stood up and went to the guest room, locking the door behind her. I always claimed to be a light sleeper, saying even her slightest movements would disturb me. So, to avoid disrupting my rest, she had slept in that narrow, windowless room for four years. Yet, even now, I failed to grasp that the changes in a person’s heart are rarely sudden.

Chapter 3

That night, I had a deep and restful sleep. I didn't wake up until noon the next day. As I walked into the living room, I noticed the master bedroom door was slightly ajar, but Jonas Peterson was nowhere to be seen. There was a note on the dining table: "I had planned to go to the restaurant with you yesterday, but got delayed at the art gallery." "I'll come home early tonight to celebrate our anniversary. Can you forgive me?" Next to the note was a small photograph of Jonas and me holding hands. He had printed it in a smaller size and placed it conspicuously, as if trying to display a detached form of affection. I tore it to pieces and tossed both the note and the photo in the trash. During our early dating years, Jonas struggled with severe OCD but tried hard to overcome his challenges. While other couples strolled around campus hand in hand, Jonas and I would walk with a string between us, maintaining at least a foot and a half of distance. I sensed his genuine fear of close contact and never pushed him into anything uncomfortable. Even our first kiss was separated by a pane of glass. Then, Jonas's ears turned red, tears in his eyes as he apologized, "Madison, once I overcome this, you’ll be the first person I truly hold." Instead of frustration, I was filled with affection for this quirky boy. No matter how long it took, I was committed to standing by him. Lost in these memories, I was jolted back to reality by the ring of a number I didn’t recognize. Leaning back in the chair, I answered the call to hear a familiar voice: "Madison, I'll be joining the international office next month. It's been six months since we last met. How about catching up for drinks in a few days?" I recognized it as April Martinez, a former colleague from my previous job. We had worked in the same department and become quite close. Back then, I left my job to take care of Jonas, sacrificing my social life to ensure he felt secure. During our chat, April mentioned she was heading to a newly listed company offering better opportunities. "Madison, once I leave the country, who knows when we'll see each other again? I reserved a table for dinner, and you absolutely have to come!" I cleared my throat and hesitantly asked, "Could you check if there are any job openings there? I might just head overseas with you." After a brief pause, I heard a squeal of surprise. "You're kidding, right? You really want to go abroad?" I confirmed with enthusiasm, and April was thrilled. "Absolutely, with your skills, top companies would be thrilled to have you." "Hang tight, I'll finish up here, and we can discuss it in person!"

Read More Now

My wife, who had always struggled with intimacy, attended my hundredth photography exhibition, where I showcased an art piece featuring myself in a close embrace with another woman. The two of us were prominently displayed, completely unfiltered. To my surprise, the inside of her thigh bore a tattoo identical to one of mine. Addressing the guests with assurance, I stated, "This is my first venture into bold, avant-garde art. I owe special gratitude to Emily Bell for her willingness to contribute so significantly to my exhibition." I added, "I hope we continue to collaborate frequently in the future." Watching them holding hands, I didn’t react with the anger I might have felt before. Quietly, I canceled the dinner reservation I had made for our anniversary. After feeling overlooked for four years, I didn't want to engage in this emotional back-and-forth anymore. A notification confirmed the cancellation on my phone. I took one last glance at the stage. Jonas still clung to Emily's hand, laughing and chatting with the guests. For someone who had a strong aversion to physical contact and couldn't even tolerate a gentle touch from his own wife, it was unsettling to see him break those boundaries with someone he'd known for less than three months. The highlight of this hundredth exhibition was supposed to be a photograph of Jonas and me holding hands—a close-up symbolizing our journey from courtship to marriage. It would have marked the first time he agreed to remove his gloves and actually touch me. I had been eagerly anticipating this moment as the staff unveiled the dust cloth covering the frame. Instead, what emerged was a provocative image: Jonas and Emily, bodies intertwined, with only their limbs covering the most intimate parts. Their skin was wrapped in a nearly transparent plastic film, creating a striking yet visually captivating scene. In my shock, I noticed the tattoo on Emily's inner thigh—an exact match to the design on Jonas's abdomen. During the introduction, Jonas claimed that this bold photo was simply an artist's challenge and a breakthrough, a way for someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder to heal himself. His voice was teary as he thanked Emily for her guidance and support over the past months, which had supposedly helped him overcome his fears and anxieties. I couldn’t accept such an absurd explanation. I had given up a successful career abroad to become a full-time homemaker, tending to Jonas's every need. Every day, I cleaned the sheets, curtains, and clothing, ensuring even the plates and utensils we used were labeled to avoid any mix-up. Over four years, I had bent over backward for him, and now, I was truly worn out.

Chapter 2

It was just past three in the morning when I finally wandered back home, a satisfied smile lingering on my face. I didn’t even notice a button had popped off my collar. As I walked in, I found Madison still on the couch. I approached her slowly and gently touched the back of her neck. "I'm sorry," I began, "for switching the artwork at the last minute without consulting you first. I just felt the original piece didn’t pack the punch we needed, and it could have impacted the whole experience." "I promise, next time we have a more fitting theme, I'll make sure to display the work we created together. Does that sound okay?" She looked up at me, her eyes catching sight of the gloves I still wore, so I made sure to keep a bit of distance between us. "Madison," I continued, "today is our fourth wedding anniversary. Why don't you go take a shower first, and then maybe..." She let out a soft laugh. We’d been together for years, yet the simple acts of affection like kissing and hugging, things that should come naturally in a marriage, were things I never initiated. If I ever did, it was usually a way to make up for my shortcomings. Or maybe it was just out of some sense of obligation. Without a word, she picked up a bottle of hand sanitizer from the table, which made me chuckle. As I removed my gloves, I playfully reached for her chin. "It’s okay. My obsession with cleanliness isn’t as bad as it once was. You don't have to be so thorough." Just as my fingers were about to reach her skin, she raised her arm to block me. I looked at her, surprised by her reaction. "Madison, didn’t I tell you that I don’t mind? You don’t have to be so cautious." She shook her head, "No... I mind." Her words hung heavily in the air, and I felt a twitch in my expression, as if I hadn't heard her right. Quickly, I steadied my gaze. "What I said at the photography exhibit was just to add some drama to the project. Did you really think twenty-odd years of OCD would just disappear because of Emily?" "Madison, I thought you weren’t the type to be so uptight. And now you’re giving me the cold shoulder over a photo..." Without replying, she silently stood up and went to the guest room, locking the door behind her. I always claimed to be a light sleeper, saying even her slightest movements would disturb me. So, to avoid disrupting my rest, she had slept in that narrow, windowless room for four years. Yet, even now, I failed to grasp that the changes in a person’s heart are rarely sudden.

Chapter 3

That night, I had a deep and restful sleep. I didn't wake up until noon the next day. As I walked into the living room, I noticed the master bedroom door was slightly ajar, but Jonas Peterson was nowhere to be seen. There was a note on the dining table: "I had planned to go to the restaurant with you yesterday, but got delayed at the art gallery." "I'll come home early tonight to celebrate our anniversary. Can you forgive me?" Next to the note was a small photograph of Jonas and me holding hands. He had printed it in a smaller size and placed it conspicuously, as if trying to display a detached form of affection. I tore it to pieces and tossed both the note and the photo in the trash. During our early dating years, Jonas struggled with severe OCD but tried hard to overcome his challenges. While other couples strolled around campus hand in hand, Jonas and I would walk with a string between us, maintaining at least a foot and a half of distance. I sensed his genuine fear of close contact and never pushed him into anything uncomfortable. Even our first kiss was separated by a pane of glass. Then, Jonas's ears turned red, tears in his eyes as he apologized, "Madison, once I overcome this, you’ll be the first person I truly hold." Instead of frustration, I was filled with affection for this quirky boy. No matter how long it took, I was committed to standing by him. Lost in these memories, I was jolted back to reality by the ring of a number I didn’t recognize. Leaning back in the chair, I answered the call to hear a familiar voice: "Madison, I'll be joining the international office next month. It's been six months since we last met. How about catching up for drinks in a few days?" I recognized it as April Martinez, a former colleague from my previous job. We had worked in the same department and become quite close. Back then, I left my job to take care of Jonas, sacrificing my social life to ensure he felt secure. During our chat, April mentioned she was heading to a newly listed company offering better opportunities. "Madison, once I leave the country, who knows when we'll see each other again? I reserved a table for dinner, and you absolutely have to come!" I cleared my throat and hesitantly asked, "Could you check if there are any job openings there? I might just head overseas with you." After a brief pause, I heard a squeal of surprise. "You're kidding, right? You really want to go abroad?" I confirmed with enthusiasm, and April was thrilled. "Absolutely, with your skills, top companies would be thrilled to have you." "Hang tight, I'll finish up here, and we can discuss it in person!"

Read More Now