Out of breath, Lawrence collapsed beside Pearl, his body buzzing from their sizzling ecstasy. A satisfied smirk played on his lips, his hand tracing the curve of her waist. "Do I tell you enough how I love your body?" His voice husky with leftover desire. Pearl lay still, her face turned towards the window, she didn't answer. Maybe because  the compliment flew over her head. Lawrence wasn't one for ravish praise, his warped philosophy on women held that excessive compliments would only inflate their ego, making them believe they are the prize, superior to their men.
Given the no response and her unreadable expression, Lawrence propped himself on one elbow. Gently, he swept her braids from her face, then trailed his fingers down her arm, deliberate and searching.
Pearl closed her eyes briefly, her spirit had wandered her body behind. It knelt at the cemetery on the mount of wet earth where her Gogo now rested. The woman who had raised her when her own mother had faltered under the weight of life. She was the heart of her childhood, her hands roughned by years of sacrifice just so she could be. And yet, lying there in bed, her body humming with recent pleasure, She couldn't help but feel the sting of betrayal. Gogo’s grave was still fresh, the soil barely settled, and here she was, surrendering herself to her husband’s desires. It felt sinful, undeniably so. But wasn’t it equally sinful to deny Lawrence his due as her husband? She knew what was expected of her as a married woman. Their domain being the kitchen and the unspoken bedroom obedience. The submission, yielding without hesitation. The notion made her roll her eyes in wry amusement. The irony wasn't lost on her. The kitchen wasn't just her sanctuary, it was her calling. Hours spent in its heat wasn't a burden at all. She poured her essence into every plate, feeding people with creativity. It was more than leaving pieces of herself in their joy but also her moments of liberation.
But that was the problem. Lawrence’s grip tightened whenever her world extended beyond him, as though even the air she breathed was his to control. Her craft demanded sharing—an act he struggled to accept. To him, her working wasn’t just unnecessary,it undermined his role as the provider, chipping away his pride.
Her husband's  hand still lingering firmly possessive on her hip, she fought the edge not to flinch it away. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek.
" What's eating you up, my sexy goddess?"

For three years she had been Mrs Lawrence Sefako and three years was plenty of time to learn that her husband preferred a wife who was available to him,no matter the weather of her heart. Turning to face him, her lie slipped through her fake smile,  "I'm fine...I'm just thinking about her." That much, at least wasn't a lie.
She didn't need to explain further, her eyes carried the weight. Lawrence reached for her face, brushing away tears at the corner of her eyes before they rolled down. His gaze lingered, drinking in the sight of her. She was far from the woman who constantly nagged him about pursuing her dream career. The woman who had started making decisions without his input. That Pearl was bold, very bold, arrogant, and independent. Slowly becoming everything he resented.
But this one, curled up in the middle of the bed, was unmistakably the woman he had fallen in love with eight years ago. Sweetly dependent, shy, the soft-spoken college girl who had leaned on him for everything. He filled her cup, shed often say it herself. Unfortunately, it had taken grief and loss to strip away her tough layers, softening the edges that once shielded her. It was a thought that was strangely intoxicating, one he didn’t bother to erase. The sight of his wife needing him—bare, sweet and utterly dependent,had an undeniable magnetic pull.
He tilted her chin, gently forcing her to look at him. "Hey! Look at me." His voice became smooth, slipping into his role with practiced ease. Pearl hesitated for a minute, it's what he says next that made her let her guard down. As he spoke she thought she'd caught a glimpse of what seemed like sincerity.
" Baby, allow me to be your tower of strength, let me take care of you. Stay in bed for as long as you need. I'll be here." A delicate thread between genuine care and something more calculated for Lawrence. The line between love and control had always been blurred. He needed her close, her life where she didn't roam beyond his grasp. That would pacify his demons, lifting him above his father's failures, he will be lifted above the bitter legacy of a man who had been left behind and repeatedly cheated on.
Pearl leaned into his touches, craving warmth. " It feels more like a dream...like I've buried a huge part of myself with her."
Ticking Lawrence off was a piece of cake, a part of her, too large to even fathom can never truly be gone, not when it belonged to him. Her grief was something he also couldn't bear to imagine taking precedence over him. Thats how deep her words twisted him, very unsettling. He scooped closer to her, he needed to prove he could revive whatever part of her she thought was dead. Slowly, he let his hand drift down her body, his touches deliberate until he reached her sex. He leaned in and brushed his lips against the loops of her ears his voice thick with intention. " I know exactly what your body is asking for."
He couldn't be serious, not now. Something sharp and cold pressed against Pearl's chest, her breath hitching as realization struck that this man wanted nothing to do with her pain, that her grief was hers alone.
Without a word, she yanked the sheets off the bed and stood, leaving Lawrence ridgid member exposed. "I'm running late for church." Marching out, the fabric trailed behind her.
        
                                           ****

Soothing out the wrinkles of her fitted pencil skirt, Pearl couldn't fathom the feeling of being a imposter. A fraud. Three years had passed since she set foot in a church , only now that grief had broken her, she seeks refuge in the same place. Her thoughts spread like wildfire, while her gaze avoided Lawrence. Carefully she coated her lips with her signature scarlet red lipstick framed with a black lip liner. Her makeup skills were minimal but the simple routine suggested by a beauty critic friend, worked wonders. It didn't only complement her warm brown complexion, it accentuated her Almond shaped eyes. Pearl playfuly puckered her lips at the mirror before turning to examine her full length reflection. Hoping to distract herself from the anxiety bubbling in her chest, she paced around the room, giving herself final touches. A dab of perfume on her neck, earrings adjusted just so.
Watching Pearl prepare herself strokes memories he'd spent years trying to suppress. His father watching helplessly at his mother entertain other men's attention. " When did you start going to church?"
Pearl didn't look surprised that he'd asked, she was more shocked that he hadn't said something sooner. Still her voice cracked when answering. "This morning."
Lawrence turned fully to face her, the weight of her response settling in. " I don't recall us discussing this."
"What is the matter with me going to church?"
His laugh was low and humor less, " don't play dumb." He swung his legs off the bed. His naked form casted a shadow over her, " three years Pearl," his voice sliced through the silence, " and you want us to have this conversation again? Or is my role as the man of this house undermined? "
Pearl knew better than to engage. Silence being her trusted weapon, she continued as though he hadn't spoken, methodically gathering her handbag and Bible. Today church wasn't just a decision, it was an act of survival.
"I'm talking to you!" Lawrence snapped, grabbing her by the wrist as she past by.
Pearl was unsure of what was happening. His grip was firm, not violent, but enough to make her heart skip a beat. She froze, her breath catching as her eyes met his. For a moment, she could only stare at him, stunned. Whatever that was happening was foreign.
Her eyes softened as she looked at him, searching his face for some clue as to what had triggered this. He was tense, his jaw clenched, eyes clouded with something she couldn’t quite name. Maybe stress, maybe frustration. It was nothing. He’d never hurt her, he couldn’t. She does get him angry here and there letting is mouth run loose but this? She smiled faintly her mind already racing, finding ways to explain everything away. He probably didn’t even realize what he was doing. She tried to push the discomfort away, to focus on what she knew to be true. He loved her. He cared for her. He would never hurt her.
"You can always come with me you know," she said lightly, forcing her tone to remain casual. "You wouldnt be so grumpy after all."  her voice almost dismissive, as if this had all been a misunderstanding. It wasn’t like that, she thought. He’s just had a rough time lately. Maybe he was still mad about the dinner party from a week ago.
Yanking her forward flattered her balance, she stumbled into him. Pearl didn't flinch, though her chest tightened as he swept his eyes over her. " Look at yourself," He sneered, "tight skits hugging you for every man to sexualize you." He tossed her wrist aside, her arm flailing slightly before she steadied herself.
Everything happening for the first time, she didn't know how to react and asking if he was jealous, the words came out wrong and unfiltered. Because of flared angry she couldn't phrase it in a much palatable way.
" Jealous? What exactly would I be jealous for? We both know who made you. Make it a point that you also make it known to those scumbags in cheap suits that you are my world. Specially chiselled for me, and I did that with my own hands."
The words stunned her to silence, the possessiveness in his voice suffocating, but too quick to dismiss it, she shot, "Come on Lawrence. No need for that everyone at church knows I'm a married woman. And they respect that." The last part played a crucial role

Lawrence gestured sharply at her, " I see someone who is encouraging the chasing."

Sliding her hands down his shoulders, she let her touch linger, warm and deliberate. "Honey it's uniform." She didn’t add how much she’d dreamed of one day wearing it, of being part of the Daughters of Light Fellowship. The idea of taking it off felt like stripping away something sacred. Still, her tone stayed sweet. “But if you don’t like it, I’ll change it. Then we can go to church together.” Her movements were slow and calculated as though trying to sooth and agitated animal. She brushed a forced kiss on his cheeks making way to her closet.

" No thank you. I'll take you and pick you up."