Cinnamon Rolls And Confessions

I opened the Tupperware container. Immediately, the fine fragrance of cinnamon and freshly baked yeast dough filled the kitchen and mingled with the scent of the brewed coffee. I took another place setting out of the cupboard and sat down at the table opposite Hans, who had already taken a seat. He poured himself a drink and then placed one of the pastries on each of our plates. It looked appetizing and I took a hearty bite.

“Mm. Delicious,” I praised with my mouth full.

He smiled contentedly. ”I'm happy to report that. If there's one thing Annegret is good at, it's baking.”

Somehow I had the feeling that there was more to his unassuming statement. But I left it at that and didn't press him on the matter. He made no further comment either. As he nibbled on his cinnamon roll and sipped his coffee, he looked around the kitchen as if he were seeing it for the first time. He had been to our place many times before. It became increasingly obvious that he had something on his mind but didn't know how to start. I waited and gave him all the time he needed.

Finally, he cleared his throat and looked me straight in the eye.

“Fabian spoke to me yesterday. He said things aren't going so well between you two. Of course I'm worried that your marriage might be at risk and I wanted to hear your opinion. Can I possibly help?”

I began to boil inside. Fabian! That cowardly, damned shit. Of course things weren't going well with us. And why? Because he refused to take his share of the responsibility and talk openly about where the problem was. Instead, he ran to his daddy and had a good cry. What a wimp!

However, Hans preempted my tirade, which I wanted to let loose, either intentionally or by accident, by carrying on. His sad expression and subdued voice made me sit up and take notice. What was bothering him so much? Were our marital problems really affecting him to such an extent?

“I can understand your situation well,” he said with a hoarse voice, "not everything is as it should be between Annegret and me either.”

I looked at him blankly. What was he getting at? A thousand ideas were whirling around in my head, but I still couldn't make sense of his cryptic remark. I waited quietly while I tried to keep my resentment for my husband boiling so that I could vent it later. But now I wanted to hear what he had to say first.

“You know... I always wanted more children. At least more than just one. But after Fabian was born, Annegret didn't feel like having sex anymore for a while. Which is completely understandable and fine!” he hastened to assure me. ”It just didn't change after that. She... we've never really had sex since. I've tried everything I could think of. There are plenty of ways to be affectionate without having intercourse. And I'd always hoped that we would rediscover the fun in it...”

His voice trailed off. Tears filled the big, strong, self-confident man's eyes. I sensed his sorrow and his pain.

If only there was something I could do to help him.

Without knowing exactly why I did it, I stood up and walked around the table. The belt of my robe came undone and it slid open. With a shrug of my shoulders, I let the heavy garment slide to the floor behind me. The short nightgown revealed my curves more than it hid them. The sudden coolness ensured that my nipples immediately stood up, clearly visible against the thin fabric.

I knelt down in front of my father-in-law. He turned to me and looked down thoughtfully. His expression was a mixture of insecurity and desire.

I realized that it was up to me to take the initiative. Or to withdraw and forget this incident and never mention it again.