Helja threw herself into the white leather armchair, knees together, shoeless feet splayed. Her toes pushed deeper in the oyster-coloured wool carpet. A loud drawn out sigh blistered the silence.
“You should take up acting,” her husband said handing her a glass of scotch. “What’s the tortured exhalation about this time?” William tossed back his whiskey without removing black, quizzical eyes from her gathered eyebrows.
Ice cubes crashing together in her glass, Helja squinted up at him, her raspberry lips pressed together into a red hyphen. The magic is gone, she thought, yet I still find you wildly attractive.
“You didn’t mind when you married me.”
“I’ve learned a thing or two since then. Money doesn’t buy happiness like in fairy tales.”
Snatching a hand, William hauled her down the hallway. “I’ll give you happiness,” he roared.
~* * ~