When the Wind Stills, the Water Forgets

My husband had a first love who'd been dead for seven years. We were married three years, and for three of them he stayed celibate. The only time we ever touched was after he'd sanitized his hands fifty times and pulled on three layers of gloves, and only then was he willing to hold my hand. To dodge his mother's constant pushing for a baby, he even went so far as to forge a certificate saying I was infertile. His mother ground me down. His relatives sneered at me. And out of guilt, I handed over my paycheck card and took on every bit of the housework myself.