Doubt(#)

"I swear I wasn't thinking of any such thing, Anita. I already have my hands full with university at the moment, and I-I'm bogged down with studies, taking care of the house, and then have a wife, too."

I gulp loudly, with my heart beating faster than usual

"There's no time for a side-chick for someone as busy as me."

"Is that the complete truth? You're not actually seeing some loose lipped whore behind my back, huh? Darling, if I actually find you out with another girl, I'm going to cook up a delicious slut blood stew. And I'll make YOU drink it."

My ears perk up as she calls me her Darling, this might be my lucky day, but there is something else that's more important in my hands now.

"OH NO THE STEW IS STILL ON!!"

I dash back into the kitchen while fixing my apron and I'm surprised to see reddish brown sludge isn't covering the countertop. I sigh and open the glass pot, letting out steam and letting the stew go down and boil like a lava crater, as a delicious waft of scent across the house, right before I feel a slight breath down my neck, almost tickling it.

"This literally looks like dogshit. Don't tell me this right here is our dinner."

"I-It is. AND DONT CALL IT DOGSHIT OR ANYTHING, IT'S PACKED WITH NUTRIENTS AND SUCH!!"

I rebel as I defend my cooking.

"IT'S JUST THAT it...it only looks bad, or not appealing, okay? The taste is quite exquisite, in my opinion."

I tilt my head and glance at her with a side-eye. She is not impressed.

"I-I know my honeybug works so soo hard at her job, bringing home all the money, so I tailor and design your meals, so that they pack the most punch! T... This may look bad, but oh-the taste is quite something. A-And don't forget the nutrients! It's filled up to the brim with Carbs and Protein, so my beloved doesn't feel zapped out of energy, okay?!'

A small giggle escapes her tiny little mouth as I look forward to the pot and start stirring it with a spoon. I see Anita's tender little hands appear from the sides of my body as she grabs my waist as puts her head on my shoulders. She lays her body against mine, making her tits cushion as she grabs a hold of me.

"It better be nice, or I'm beating the fuck out of that pretty little face of yours. I find it cute that you actually care about my health, you know?"

"I'm your husband, after all, you know? I-I really do care about you."

I say, trying my best not to shiver as I recall all the times Anita has beaten and cut up my face through her long and tender fingers in a millisecond. I'm sure I have some sort of PTSD at this point in the relationship, but going to a doctor and telling him, 'Hey, look at all these bruises and scars I have on my body that they all point to domestic abuse and violence by my wife, who is a lawyer at one of the most prestigious firms in the city', would be one of the most retarded ideas I've ever thought of.

As if that could actually work. I mean, yes, the police might have a reason to arrest her, but that would mean career death for her, and I wouldn't want that. I would need concrete proof, too, like a video or something. Not to mention once she's done her time in prison or convicted from the accusations, my days would literally be quite numbered. Even though I would have a years' worth of a head start on her, it won't take much time for her to sniff me out...and brutally slaughter my poor soul.

"Go and take a shower, come on. Get changed into something cozy. Dinner will be ready in a bit."

I can see her smirk from my peripheral vision as she kisses my cheek before skipping away from the kitchen and humming a nice tune to herself.

'Kaaaaaaay'