As the day dawned, her eyes slowly opened to a blurry white-satin curtain to the left side of her bed. She furrowed her eyebrows while trying to register the view in front of her, lustrous, well-kept and exceptionally tidied, which reflected up to a certain extent a part of her inner self. The books and many other items were not misplaced, they were in fact, in the right place, arranged according to size or color. Nothing was left unattended or casually left around. Sighing in dissatisfaction, she got up and put her slippers on, while tying her brightly-clean brown hair in a ponytail, She looked herself in the mirror twitching the corner of her mouth to the right while raising her brows. Her husband, still sleeping, turned slightly in the large bed. She looked at him, and resumed to her cares, not giving much of an importance to him. Was her life completed in the sense of having a good marriage and a husband who loves her deeply? Is her own happiness dependant on bein...
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