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Trust No One (Full Version) (5th Jan 23 at 1:45am UTC)
Then it dawned on me that this was the very reason why he had suggested that I invite Ben. He finally wants to meet him. He wants to put everything on the table and make sure that yesterday's embarrassing situation will never happen again. All right I said, "If you think so." He said he did think so. He waited a long time and then asked, "Chrissy?"? You said you read the log? "Yes." I say. He waited a little longer. I didn't call this morning. I didn't tell you where it was. I realized it was true. I went to the closet myself, although I had no idea what I would find in it. I found the shoebox and opened it almost without thinking. I found it myself, as if I remembered it would be there. That's great. He said. I am writing this diary in bed. It was getting late, but Ben was in his study, which was across the terrace. I could hear him working, the keyboard clicking, and the mouse. Occasionally I could hear a sigh and hear his chair squeak. I imagine he's squinting at the screen. I'm sure if he turns off the machine and goes to sleep, I'll hear the sound and have time to hide my log. Despite what I thought this morning, Dr. Nash and I are now in agreement, and I'm sure I don't want my husband to find out what I wrote. I spoke to him this evening while we were sitting in the dining-room. Can I ask you a question? He looked up and I said,turmeric extract powder, "Why don't we ever have kids?" I guess I was testing him. I secretly begged him to tell me the truth and refute my inference. The timing always seems to be wrong. He said, "Then it's too late." I pushed my plate aside and I was disappointed. He came home late and called my name loudly when he came in the door and asked me how I was. Where are you He said, sounding accusatory. I shouted that I was in the kitchen. I'm preparing dinner. I cut the onions and put them in the hot olive oil. He stood in the doorway, as if wondering whether to enter the room. He looked a little tired and unhappy. Are you all right I say. He saw the knife in my hand. "What are you doing?" "Just making dinner." I say. I laughed, but he didn't respond. I thought we could have an omelette. I found some eggs and some mushrooms in the fridge. Do we have potatoes? I couldn't find it anywhere,ghana seed extract, and I — "I had planned to eat pork chops in the evening." He said, "I bought some. I bought it yesterday.". I think we can eat those. "Sorry." I said, "I-" But it doesn't matter. There's nothing wrong with fried eggs, if you like. I could feel the conversation slipping where I didn't want it to go. He was staring at the cutting board, and my hand was hanging over it, holding the knife. Nope I say. I laughed, but he didn't laugh with me. It's okay. I didn't realize. I can "Now you've cut the onions." He said. He spoke without emotion, just stating the facts without any embellishment. I know, but.. We can still eat chopped onions, stesweet stevia ,lutein and zeaxanthin supplements, right? "Do whatever you want." He said. He turned and walked towards the dining-room. I'll set the table. I didn't answer. I don't know what I did wrong, if I did wrong. I continued to chop the onion. We sat face to face without saying a few words during the meal. I asked him if everything was okay, but he shrugged and said yes. There are a lot of things today. He only told me this sentence, and when I asked, he added, "Things at work." The conversation had been nipped in the bud before it began, and I thought it would be better to tell him about my diary and Dr. Nash. I took a bite of my food and tried not to worry — he had a right to have a bad day after all, I told myself — but uneasiness gnawed at my heart. I could feel the opportunity to open my mouth slipping away, and I didn't know if I would wake up in the morning believing it was the right thing to do, and finally I couldn't stand it any longer. But did we ever want to have children? I say. He sighed. "Chrissy, do we have to talk about this?" "I'm sorry." I say. I still don't know what I'm going to say. Maybe it's better to let this topic go. But I realized I couldn't do that.
"It's just that a very strange thing happened today." I say. I was trying to lighten my tone, trying to be casual. I just thought I remembered something. "Something?" "Yes.". Oh, I don't know.. "Go on." He leaned forward and suddenly became eager. "What do you remember?" My eyes were fixed on the wall behind him. There hung a picture of a close-up of a petal, but it was black and white, and the water on the petal had not yet fallen off. It looks cheap, I think. It seems that it should be in a department store, not in someone's home. I remember having a child. He sat back in his chair, opened his eyes wide, and then closed them tightly. He took a breath and let out a long sigh. Is it true? I said, "We had a baby?" If he's lying now, then I don't know what I'm going to do, I guess. I guess I will quarrel with him or tell him everything in an uncontrollable and stormy way. He opened his eyes and looked at me. Yes He said, "It's true." He told me about Adam, and a wave of relief overwhelmed me. Relief, but mixed with a touch of pain. For so many years, I can't find it forever. All these moments I can't remember, I'll never get them back. I felt a desire in my heart. It was growing, growing so strong that it seemed to engulf me. Ben told me about Adam's birth, his childhood,pumpkin seed extract, his life. Where did he go to school? The nativity play he performed at school. His wonderful performances on the football field and track. How disappointed he was with his exam results. His girlfriends. Once he mistook a half-rolled cigar for marijuana. I asked Ben questions, and he answered them all; he seemed happy as he talked about his son, as if his emotions were driven away by memories.
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