During meals, she would earnestly bow her head to eat, and even though he sat opposite her, she never once glanced at him from beginning to end.
She could look at his nose, his lips, but she never met his eyes.
When she sat in the living room watching television and he came to sit beside her, she would get up to pour water, or go to the restroom, or even cut a plate of fruit.
Upon returning, she would naturally sit in another spot, always avoiding sitting next to him.
As she was climbing the stairs and nearly fell, he reached out to help her, but she withdrew her hand subtly, as if he were some ferocious beast.
Back in the bedroom, he embraced her from behind, watching how she would create distance between them.
She didn't push him away directly, nor did she make up any excuses to do so.
But her back tensed slightly, stiff as a telegraph pole, giving him an invisible rejection.
