Nine months being separated from my wife, one arranged by my uncle, taught me one thing. I loved a woman’s body. Being surrounded by men, I found that I missed her body, even just looking at it.

So when I returned home, exhausted and covered in blood, I was so relieved to see that she was wearing a short dress that decorated that fine body of hers. And I didn’t hesitate to show my relief.

My gloved hand wrapped around her wrist and dragged her away from the kitchen. She gasped softly and I led her to the washroom. I noticed her holding her nose and I knew I must’ve smelled horrible.

I loaded each bucket with warm water while I got undressed in front of her.

“I’m not as clean as you think I always am.” I told her through my teeth as I pulled off my gloves.

“Stay. So you can see how filthy I am.”