Ann Fischer – Blind
My husband Christopher was once a financial planner. Even though he couldn’t balance our budget, his clients trusted him implicitly and he made them feel secure. In exchange they paid him very well. We had a nice life then, except for the occasional blip on the radar screen of our relationship – nothing that couldn’t be solved with a few soft words or a trip to the bedroom. Usually little tiffs about money. My yoga studio was just starting to make a profit, and I had recently decorated it in a lovely minimalist way, in neutral tones with simple prints and accents like straw-coloured silk cushions and clay flowerpots. At last, I was in control of my working life and poured my heart and soul into making it succeed.
When we first met, I fell hard for Christopher right away, although I wouldn’t call it love. I’d never been with a man who was prettier than I was, but after a while I got used to it, and it didn’t bother me so much. I was recovering from a broken heart and needed something to help me move on. If it wasn’t love, it was good enough, and when he asked me to marry him I jumped at the chance, knowing that it might be my last.
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