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Love My Wife – Missax — Charlie Forde – I

Now, his hand hovers over her shoulder. He doesn’t touch. Touching requires permission he’s no longer sure he has.

“I love my wife,” Charlie whispers to the bathroom mirror. It’s not a confession. It’s an incantation. He says it three times, hoping the words will stitch themselves back into something that feels true instead of just heavy.

Because love isn’t the opposite of betrayal. The opposite of betrayal is presence. And Charlie Forde has been absent for years, standing right in front of her.

The clock ticks to 6:00 AM. He makes the coffee anyway. Some habits are just elegantly disguised cowardice. End of piece.

The Quiet Violence of Devotion