Laundry day

“I'm just doing the laundry,” I called out, carrying the full basket as I passed David's study. It was still early, but David was already sitting at his desk. The door was slightly open. Through the crack, I could see him typing on his laptop with his usual quiet concentration.

I wasn't even sure if he had heard me or even noticed me—he hardly looked up. But I knew he was aware of me. Always. As sure as I was breathing.

I wanted to be diligent too, so he could be proud of me. So I decided not to dawdle, but to start the housework as soon as I got up. Of course, I hadn't bothered to get dressed first. I was still wearing my nightgown. It was oversized, soft, and barely covered my thighs. I didn't put anything on over it. I wasn't wearing anything underneath either. No bra. No underwear. It wasn't intentional, definitely not. At least not entirely.

The washing machine was in the basement, at the foot of the stairs. The basket was full to the brim and heavy. I bent down to push open the washing machine door, and the hem of my nightgown rode up behind me, exposing my hips. I stood there like that until I had put all the laundry in the machine.

I no longer heard anything coming from upstairs. The typing had stopped.

I quickly straightened up and turned around—just in time to see David at the top of the stairs, holding an empty cup.

“Oh,” I said, blinking at him as if I didn't know where his eyes had been the whole time. “I didn't hear you.”

His expression was neutral. Too neutral. “I just wanted to get some fresh coffee from the kitchen,” he said, his tone as neutral as ever. As if that proved anything, he held out the empty cup to me. “Need any help?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. I'm just putting a load of laundry in.” I tapped the washing machine and smiled. “All right.”

He nodded and took a step back. “Okay. Just watch where you step. The stairs are slippery when they're wet.”

“Sure,” I said, still smiling, my cheeks bright red, very aware of how little I was wearing. “Thanks.”

He turned and disappeared. No further comment. No looking back. No sign of weakness.

And yet—I knew he had seen everything.

That was kind of the point, wasn't it?