The Unbearable Game

After three years of marriage, I suddenly began to realize that my wife might have a low libido.

One evening, my older neighbor, who was sympathetic, kindly invited me over. That night, I stumbled upon his wife in the middle of a passionate entanglement with another man through a crack in the door.

The next day, my neighbor said to me, "Hey, Cyril, you know, Heather has always liked you."

All I wanted to do upon returning from my business trip was to head home instead of attending the celebration dinner. When my colleagues knew about this, they all teased me, saying that "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

I did not mind their teasing, though. If they had a stunning wife like mine, I knew they probably would not even get out of bed.

My wife, Leanne, was my first love and also my college classmate. Her beauty was striking, both cool and enchanting. With curves in all the right places, she was a truly devilish figure. She was the goddess of our school back then. I went to great lengths to win her over. In the three years I spent trying, I was practically the definition of a "persistent admirer" who finally got everything he wanted.

The day I got home, I gave her the gift I had just bought. "Honey, open it up and take a look."

Her beautiful face softened just a bit as she opened the gift box to find a delicate, cream-colored purse inside.

A joyful smile appeared on her face as she suddenly hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. "I've wanted this bag for so long. Thank you, darling."

I spent thousands just to get that smile from her, but it was totally worth it.

After two weeks apart, I missed her so much that, honestly, I had been feeling a little restless since I got back. The way she hugged me made me press right up against her, and I was pretty sure she felt it, too.

An intimacy hovered between us, so I slid my arm around her waist while the other found its way to her chest.

Just as I was about to kiss her, she suddenly turned her head away. "Honey, hasn't it been less than a month? You just got back, you must be tired. How about you rest a bit first?"

Although my wife is incredibly beautiful, she is also very traditional. She made me agree to three rules for our wedding: we could only be intimate once a month, only at night, and with the lights off. Not even anniversaries or Valentine's Day were exceptions.

In every way, she is perfect. I love her deeply and respect her. How could I not agree to just this small request?

So, if I ever felt the need, I would just watch a short film and handled things myself. I do not usually travel much for work, so even though we cannot go all the way every night, we can at least cuddle and kiss to feel close. However, after being apart for two weeks, I could not help but miss her.

My whole body felt heated as I buried my head in her neck, my voice thick with longing. "It had been two weeks. Didn't you miss me, honey? Just this once, could we make an exception?"

She looked reluctant, but after a bit of gentle persuasion, she finally agreed, albeit hesitantly.

Overcome with excitement, I finally ended our intense session about an hour later. Satisfied, I lay atop her, glancing at her expression. She still had that regal, alluring look, her face just slightly flushed but otherwise unchanged.

Then, she nudged me, reminding me to fill the condom with water to check for leaks, a routine we follow every time. Using protection was another part of our "three rules." However, when I reached over, I realized I had completely forgotten to wear one in my eagerness.

When I told her, I saw a flicker of panic on my usually composed wife's face for the first time.

I pulled her into my arms gently to calm her. "It's okay. If we end up expecting a child, we'll welcome the baby. We've been married three years, and my mom has been eager for a grandchild anyway."

My wife shoved me away, grabbed a packet of birth control pills from the drawer, and swallowed one without hesitation.

With a look of frustration, she said, "For the next two months, we'll sleep in separate rooms." Then, she slammed the door hard enough to make the doorframe shake.

Another two months.

With a frown, I lit a cigarette. She truly is perfect in every way, beautiful and talented. In everyone's eyes, we were the ideal couple. This particular aspect, however, has honestly been so difficult for me.

We have been married for three years, yet she has never initiated intimate moments. Sometimes, I even wondered if she disliked me touching her. Or perhaps she did not want to have children with me.

I went online to search for answers, and most of the results suggested that if a spouse acted distant the way she did, it could mean that they did not love their partner.

Who did she love if not me?

I thought back and recalled her having a boyfriend during college. He was practically the male equivalent of a campus idol, and they were together for two years before they suddenly broke up for reasons I never knew.

Why would she go through the trouble of marrying me if she did not love me?

Later, I came across an article with expert commentary describing symptoms that matched her behavior perfectly. It suggested that she might have a low libido.

We barely spoke for the next several days, and there was an invisible tension lingering between us. I thought about finding an opportunity to apologize to her when our neighbor paid an unexpected visit.

A couple, Liam and Heather Smith lived in the apartment next door. They were known as the most affectionate couple in our building, joined at the hip and always in sync. Sometimes, I could not help but wonder how they managed to stay so sweet to each other after so many years of marriage.

They hosted a small gathering today and invited several young couples, including us. The men drank while the women chatted. The atmosphere was wonderful. I looked at my wife, who was finally gazing back at me, but her expression still seemed a bit chilly.

Noticing the tension between us, Liam got me another beer. He asked, "Cyril, did you and Leanne get into an argument? You two didn't say a word to each other all afternoon."

"Sorry, you had to see that, Liam. We had a disagreement lately."

"What kind of disagreement?" he asked, taking a bite of food. "Let's hear it; we're all neighbors here. Maybe I can help."

I had been dying to talk to someone about my troubles, and Liam was a straightforward, generous guy who was always inviting friends over for meals. Plus, he was experienced in these matters, so I figured his advice might be helpful.

I explained the situation to him, and he listened with a frown. He slapped his leg and sighed, "This sounds like a tough one."

I sighed as well. "I feel so helpless."

Liam suddenly leaned in closer and spoke in a tone that only I could hear, "We're both men, I get your struggles. But you know, you can't just go without food forever despite the stove being broken now, can you?"

I nodded despite not catching his meaning.

He added, "Actually, there's another way to deal with this."

I looked at him in confusion. "What is it?"

"I'll leave the door open for you tonight. Come over," he said, patting my shoulder as if giving advice. "Just walk right in; no need to knock."

Later that night, I put on some light clothes and headed to Liam's apartment. As he said, he left the door unlocked. I softly pushed it open, and through the crack, I saw a sight that sent a wave of heat through me.

There were four people inside, all from the gathering earlier. Liam was absent, but I could see Heather. Her cheeks were flushed under the soft light, and she wore a black lace nightgown that left little to the imagination, revealing enticing glimpses of her figure. Her eyes were filled with a seductive charm as she knelt before a man I did not recognize.

I was shocked. I never imagined Heather to be such an open person.

She had left a lasting impression on me the first day I moved here.

She was a beautiful woman, but a different type of woman from my wife. If my wife was the cool and aloof beauty, then Heather embodied the warmth of a gentle, quiet, and devoted wife. Maybe it was her maturity, but Heather always exuded a distinct aura of a married woman.

It felt like I was watching a grand, absurd reality show unfolding before my eyes. The night air was cool, yet I felt a wave of heat spreading through me, my heartbeat racing uncontrollably. I had never seen such an exhilarating scene. Swallowing hard, I felt my grip tighten against the door frame.

All I had to do was push the door open, and I would be part of this outrageous scene, experiencing a rush I had never known before.

Facing such a tempting scene, I confess that my mind did start to wander. However, my sensible side, fortified by years of learning, remained steadfast. I could not do this. I had a family, a beautiful wife, and maybe even a child on the way. I could not make such a careless mistake.

I pulled the door shut, cutting off that final thread of reckless desire within me. I went back home and took a cold shower to clear my head. The light in the guest room was still on, and my wife was likely still awake.

I thought about knocking and having a few words with her, perhaps apologizing for what happened the past few days. Just as I lifted my hand, however, I paused.

The door was slightly ajar, and through the narrow opening, I saw her sitting in the room, wearing a pure white, delicate lingerie set. The white lace gave her an angelic, flawless look, yet the subtle cutouts hinted at a touch of forbidden allure.

In our three years of marriage, she had always been proper and reserved and never once dressed in such a daring way. I had thought she was indifferent to intimacy, so why would she secretly wear something like this? Surely, it was not just to admire her own figure.

"How about this one?" she suddenly spoke, and that was when I noticed the Bluetooth earpiece in her ear.

I could not hear the response from the person on the other end, but she suddenly replied, "Alright, I'll send you a picture."

My wife's silvery laughter echoed as she replied, "Don't say things like that, it's embarrassing."

She lifted her phone and took a selfie in front of the mirror before sending it to the other person. Was she sending a photo like that to someone else?

I closed the door, but my heart was racing. I knocked urgently and could hear my wife clear her throat before saying, "Honey, let's talk tomorrow. I'm already in bed."

She lied to me.

It felt like a blow to the head, and my mind blanked. My entire body went limp, my hands dropping weakly to my sides. Who was she talking to? And who was she sending those intimate photos to?

Could what I had read online? Did my wife truly not love me? Had she perhaps rekindled something with her old flame while I was away these last two weeks?

Regardless of whether my suspicions were correct, a terrible feeling gnawed at me. My wife was hiding something from me, and it felt significant.

Doubts plagued my mind, keeping me up all night.

…

The following day, Liam and his wife asked us to come over to their place once more.

"Hey, Cyril, I left the door open for you last night. Why didn't you come in?" Liam asked.

I politely replied, "Actually, I did come. I took a look at the doorway, then decided to go back."

Liam rubbed his hands together, laughing, "No need to feel awkward. This is just about keeping things fresh and comfortable. Heather and I are pretty open-minded about it."

Their openness was beyond what I expected. I stayed silent and just looked at him with some surprise.

Seeing my hesitation, he spoke with a tone as if he were offering sage advice, "Look, if Leanne is the way you'd mentioned, you shouldn't keep denying yourself, right?"

Though I could see his point, I still could not fully agree with it.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, speaking slowly, "Actually, Heather has always had a bit of a thing for you."

Wait, what?

His words sounded like an invitation, not just from a friendly neighbor, but something much more. While he was certainly a warm and easygoing neighbor, from a husband's perspective, this felt too much.

I looked over at Heather, who was wearing an apron and chatting happily with my wife, in the distance. Could she really be interested in me?

My mind flashed back to the sight of her last night, alluring and sensual. Few men could resist such an image.

"Liam, stop joking around. Heather is your wife. How could she like me?"

Liam gave me a meaningful look. "Whether she likes you isn't the question; it's about whether you like her."

I was taken aback and left speechless without an answer.