I lean back against the wall, arms crossed against my chest, as a low, soft voice speaks with a slow, steady cadence. I smile as I listen to my husband read our daughter her bedtime story. He doesn't know I'm listening, but I can't help eavesdropping. There is so much love in his voice, you can hear him tell her how much he loves her with every line, every turn of a page. He kisses her on the cheek, and tucks her in.
I wait.
He walks out of her room, and shuts the door behind him, looking up, he sees me, and blushes.
"Were you listening?"
"Maybe..." I grin at him. "Will you read me a story?"
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