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Three Years Without Affection
From the first day of their marriage, something had felt wrong.
Michael never touched her — not once. No embraces, no warmth, not even a brush of his hand. Every time Elena reached for him, he would pull away and say softly, “I’m just tired, Elena. Maybe tomorrow.”
Each night, he would slip out of bed and disappear. Sometimes he claimed to be working in the living room; other times, he said he didn’t want to disturb her sleep.
Margaret always had an excuse ready. “He’s a good son,” she said with a knowing smile. “He comes to check on me, makes sure I take my medicine. You’re lucky to have such a caring husband.”
But Elena couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. The house always felt warm — yet there was a strange, almost suffocating chill in the air.
The Locked Room
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