No, my husband is a gentle soul, nothing like that shameless monster!
My hands trembled as my mind sank into a quagmire of dark suspicions, pulling me deeper into despair.
No, it can't be him. I have to trust my husband.
I desperately tried to convince myself not to dwell on it, but the flood of doubts drowned my reason. I crouched beside the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
What if... what if...
Terror wracked my body, leaving me paralyzed with fear.
That evening, Mary brought me a glass of milk as usual.
I stared blankly at the pure white liquid, then at her kindly smiling face.
"Mary," I said, my voice unnaturally hoarse, "your milk must be magical. Every night after drinking it, I fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow—like a pig."
Like a poor, stupid p
