Episode 2

*HENRY'S POV*

Time went by, and in my own way, I began to notice the subtle changes. Camille's clumsy footsteps were no longer heard. Her scent had changed, and strangely, I yearned to smell it more and more.

My father passed away, my stepmother tried to get rid of me, and Camille and I ended up getting married to protect me.

Yes, that foolish girl, besides wasting her entire youth taking care of a blind and hopeless man, even married him, just so she would be legally responsible for me and no one could decide my fate without consulting her.

Our marriage wasn't just that—a protection, an agreement where only one party benefited. Naturally, we became intimate.

At first, I felt guilty; I felt like a scoundrel, taking advantage of someone who probably did everything here for me out of a sense of guilt that, for me, no longer made sense. If Camille carried any guilt about what happened to me, she had already atoned for it. Our relationship had become unfair to her. I don't know if it was time or some maturity I acquired, but I knew she wasn't to blame for what had happened.

Thinking this way made me feel like the worst man in the world, an exploiter. Camille didn't have to carry me on her back for the rest of her life.

Even so, even feeling like the worst man alive, I was cowardly enough not to put an end to it.

In the dark of night, I couldn't resist seeking her out. Maybe she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world, maybe she wasn't the woman of my dreams, but she had an irresistible scent, her skin was as soft as velvet, her taste as sweet as honey.

When we were being intimate, it was the only time I felt in control. I didn't need to see to find her mouth, her breasts, her p---y.

I couldn't get the taste of her p---y out of my mind, how she trembled in my hands, the sounds of her breathing and the moans she tried to suppress. I couldn't resist the urge to thrust deeply inside her, how she became wet, hot, and utterly consumed by pleasure during our most heated nights.

In the moment, all I wanted was more of her, more pleasure, but after we reached the peak, I just wanted it all to end, for some miracle to happen and free me from this life of total dependence on another person, even for sex.

I didn't know other women and wondered if it was even good or if it would be much better with someone else. Camille wasn't exactly a beauty, an attractive woman. Maybe I only felt so much pleasure and attraction because I couldn't see her.

I started asking myself these questions, and from then on, the guilt I felt began to fade. I began to think that maybe giving her those nights was a fair trade for her services since she received nothing for all that she did for me.

I relaxed in the bathtub and let go of all the guilt. My hair fell into my eyes, and it bothered me. It was just a remnant of a habit from when I could see because, in reality, those strands didn't obstruct the vision I no longer possessed.

A while later, I sensed Camille's presence. Unlike before, she was extremely quiet now, always walking barefoot and with a gentleness that few would probably notice. It's strange, and I can't explain it, but blindness awakened a new sense in me, the sense of perceiving her presence.

She knelt down and, as if she had read my mind—well, she probably had—Camille brushed the strands of hair away from my face.

Skillfully, she began to sponge my body with liquid soap.

She moved lower, and I involuntarily grew warm. Being deprived of sight had heightened my other senses.

Each movement of her hands sent waves of heat through me. She moved down between my legs, and I was ready. My reasoning had already slowed, and I could only think with my lower head. She paused with her hand there and kept moving, clearly teasing me.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I grabbed her arm and pulled her towards me.

"Henry!" she let out a small cry that surprised me.

"What is it? Why are you scared? You were just teasing me a moment ago. Take off your clothes and get in the bathtub."

"Oh… was that it? I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional, I just got distracted… Not today, okay? I'm tired today."

It took me a few seconds to process; I had never heard Camille make any excuses to refuse me.

"Are you really trying to distance yourself from me? Am I ugly and disgusting, Camille?"

"No, Henry… You are… you are attractive, very attractive…" she said softly, her voice laced with shyness.

The air around us shifted, and before she could move away, I tightened my grip on her arm, pulling her closer.

"Then get in the bathtub. If you don't think I'm disgusting, you should take advantage, since I can't pay you with money for your services."

I felt her body tense instantly, and she gently broke free from my grasp and stepped away.

"Do you really see me as just your maid, Henry?" she asked, leaving me speechless for a moment. I swear, in all these years, she had never asked me such questions.

"How I see you?" How do I see her? "I don't see you, Camille, you know that."

"You understood what I meant, Henry. Please, I need to hear from you, how do you see me? What do you think of the woman I am?"

"Are you serious, Camille?" As they say, silence speaks louder than words, and that's exactly what she gave me.

I shifted uncomfortably in the tub, not thinking this was going to be a pleasant conversation. She waited patiently until I said, "I think… I think you're strange; I don't understand you. No one would dedicate themselves so much to another person in exchange for nothing. If it were the other way around, you know I would never do the same for you, right?"

She disguised it, but not well enough. My keen hearing caught the tremor in her breath. "Oh, damn it, she's not going to cry again, is she?"

I waited a while before continuing, "I remember you, Camille. I remember your reddish hair and your strange thinness. I remember your freckles and your awkward smile. I know people don't change much as they grow, and you probably became a very… let's say… an ordinary woman. I know the accident didn't leave any marks on my face, besides the blindness, and I know I probably have a far superior appearance to yours."

I took a deep breath, not feeling good about saying what I was about to say, but despite feeling like a scoundrel, I wouldn't be dishonest in my words.

"What do I think of you? Well… I think maybe you have some self-esteem issues, or maybe you've developed some kind of emotional dependence on me. It's not normal to have given up your dreams for someone who can't love you."

I heard her breathing carefully, probably trying to disguise her tears again.

"These things change, you know? Who knows, one day you might find out that you love me."

"No, Camille. It's impossible to love someone you can't see."

At that moment, she left the bathroom and left me alone. I waited for her to finish my bath until I felt the water turn cold. She didn't come back…

I was forced to try to manage on my own, with difficulty getting out of the bathtub. I knocked things over, slipped a few times until I found my bathrobe.

I went back to the bedroom, and even though I couldn't see, I knew I was alone there. She wasn't there…

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