Yesterday morning, I woke up with a backache. My stomach feels bloated and my head is aching. It’s hormonal. I took an analgesic and went to cook rotis for breakfast.
While Hubby was getting ready for work, I silently sipped tea. He asked me if I was ok. I said, yes.
I hate it when my progesterone levels are high. Suddenly, with no apparent reason, I’m depressed. I feel like everyone in the world is having fun, except me. And I suffer this silly feeling every month, which usually lingers for a few hours to an entire day.
Yesterday was that day.
When Hubby was about to leave for work, he asked again, in a more concerned tone, if I was fine.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“But you don’t sound fine. Aren’t you feeling well? Is something wrong?”
“What makes you think something is wrong?”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.” I showed him my eyes, opening them up wider, as a proof.
“But you are crying in your heart. I can hear it.”
I remained quiet.
“Come here,” he said, pulling me into a warm and tight hug, “You can not hide your emotions from me. I’m your other half, remember?”
Oh, I love this man so much. He always make me feel better in an instant. He promised to come home early from work.
And he did. Then I told him about the backache that was still there.
So at bedtime, he rubbed some ointment on my back, working his fingers gently to soothe my aching muscles.
I slept soundly, feeling loved and pampered. He’s not just my other half. He’s my better half.