Confession of a shy wife

Andressa sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her silk nightgown. The room was bathed in a sensual twilight, the moonlight filtering through the half-open curtains. The air smelled of jasmine, a fragrance that always calmed her, but that night, not even the familiar scent could dispel the anxiety that consumed her. Marcos, her husband, was in the bathroom, the sound of running water in the sink echoing down the hallway. She took a deep breath, trying to find the courage for the words she had wanted to say for so long.