Desiring Her All Along

It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired.

No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage.

That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..."

However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content."

My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior.

I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media.

Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?]

Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.]

Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake.

I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine.

The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave.

Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared?

"Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"

[Perhaps your husband has someone else.]

The moment I saw the comment, my fingers froze, and I felt like I had fallen into an ice pit.

I turned around to see that the bedside lamp in the bedroom was still on, but Andre Garcia was already out of bed.

The pattering sound of water came from the bathroom, accompanied by a strange noise that made my scalp tingle. My mind went blank as an ominous premonition made me stand up.

Stopping at the bathroom door, I peered in through that tiny gap.

The next second, my mind exploded!

Andre, who had shown no interest in me in the past three years, was propped up against the bathroom wall, his body as tense as a bowstring. He held his member in one hand as he vented frantically and hurriedly.

On the phone screen in front of him was a photo of my younger sister, Maya Lawson.

“Maya...” His voice was hoarse and affectionate with a tenderness and infatuation he had never shown me.

I hurriedly covered my mouth, stifling my scream, and took two steps back as if I had been struck by lightning.

Just as I fled to the living room, I heard his phone, which he had left on the coffee table, vibrate.

I had always known Andre's phone password, but I had never checked it out of respect. Trembling, I typed in the password and opened the messaging app I had never touched.

I tapped