I was wiping the kitchen surfaces and humming to myself when I felt a pair of hands on my waist. Normally, I’d have turned to face my husband with a smile, pressing myself against him in a promise of what might come later. But now, puzzlingly, all I felt was irritation.The hands moved higher. I felt rage - rather like PMT, irrational and deep in my stomach.‘Don’t touch me,’ I said. His face was shocked and hurt. I felt terrible, but at the same time detached.
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