[ WP ] One morning , you wake up next to your spouse and say `` I love you . '' You discover you have developed an ability : anything you say immediately becomes false .

My arm slams heavily onto the poor alarm clock which suffers daily abuse from a less awake me. Beside me, my spouse stirs slightly and turns, tugging the covers towards her side in an attempt to hide from the inevitable day. I slap her lightly on her thigh. 
 
 “ C ’ mon. Time to get up ” 
 
 Muffled groans, then the beautiful woman I have the pleasure to call my wife sits up, her hair frizzled, and eyes puffy from sleep. 
 
 “ Morning ” she mutters, wiping muck out of her eyes, before she leans over and plants a customary kiss. 
 
 My goodness, her morning breath was bad. 
 
 “ I ’ ll go get the coffee ” she volunteered, moving out from under the covers, bending over briefly to pick up her dress where it was discarded during, ahem, events last night, then slipping it over to cover her delightful curves. 
 
 “ Mmkay. Love you ” I rasped, as I lumbered over to the bathroom to relieve myself. Minutes later, I sat down in the kitchen, downing the worst cup of coffee I ever had. 
 
 “ Holy fuck woman, how did you manage to screw up a cup of coffee so bad? ” 
 
 She looks up in shock over her makeup palette, her hand hovering near her eye, mascara half applied. 
 
 “ What did you just say? ” 
 
 “ This coffee is disgusting ” I spat out, slamming the cup on the table, before getting up. Her look of incredulity follows me. 
 
 “ You ’ re-you ’ re joking right? You always said you liked my coffee ” she said, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. 
 
 My mind turns back to yesterday morning, where I adjusted the coffee while my wife was busy prettifying herself. As I did every day since she insisted she wanted to be the one to make the morning coffee, because I loved that woman. Did I? 
 
 “ Ah-yeah, I got you good ” I managed to say, as she shot me a playful death glare and continued with her makeup, before I left the kitchen. 
 
 I loved her right? Or did I? I tried to conjure the happy moments we had had, but I could not gather a scrap of love for her. I could not comprehend how I stupidly creamed and sugared the coffee secretly daily instead of calling her out on it. 
 
 Do I love her? 
 

