The Secret Behind the Smile

Every night after we kiss goodnight, I slide into bed wearing nothing but a leather collar, my husband none the wiser. Tonight, as his arm drapes over me and he whispers sleepily about tomorrow's chores, I feel the cold metal against my neck, a stark reminder of what lies beneath our daily facade. The tight grip and sharp edges bite gently, our house looks like a perfect marriage from the outside, but inside, there’s this craving, unfulfilled, gnawing at me. Tonight, as we drift off, I hold onto that collar for comfort, its presence a secret confession to myself, of what our days don’t allow.