Sometimes things are not always what they appear to be.

Sometimes they are exactly what they appear to be.

All my friends were happy when I got married. They gushed over me, like all friends do. They gave me trinkets and lacy things to wear for my chosen partner. They cried tears of joy. They voiced concern, but in the end, they waved good bye to me and went off to find partners of their own.

Most of them are married now. Some of them have families.

I do not.

Itís not that my husband isnít caring. He cares for me quite a bit.

He provides for me, houses me, teaches me.

But he rarely touches me.

He says he respects me over all other witches. You should have heard his snarl of distain over the frilly things I had brought along on our honeymoon.

He wouldnít dare dishonor me, or disrespect me by requesting those hideous tools of lust. He incinerated them at once.

When he took me, it was quick. He muttered a lubrication spell. I assumed it was out of nervousness. Now, looking back, I donít think he wanted to touch me more than he had to. He spelled our clothing away, as well.

He loves me. He does.

Well, he doesnít really say it, of course. Heís a very private man that way.

But, I believe he does.

He does come to my chamber a few times a year. He never stays long. Heís always embarrassed.

Heís proudest of me in his laboratory. I assist him.

I am his other half.

Iím valuable. He tells me so often.

He deeply cares for me.

I think.