The perfect wife

She cooked him meals, made him dessert, brought him cigars after he ate, and always agreed with him. She was perfect.

Mahwash Badar February 19, 2013
She was beautiful with her almond shaped eyes and dark eyebrows that framed her oval face perfectly. A small tress fell onto her clear forehead as if on cue every time the wind swayed.

He caressed her hand, her lovely art-loving hands that were manicured; what completed the picture was a diamond ring which shone on her ring finger.
"You're beautiful," he said breathlessly.

"I'm beautiful to you, my love," she said with equal fervour. "It's all in your eyes. It's all about the perfect way through which you look at me."

He sighed happily.
"Here, have this -- your favourite cheesy roast potatoes and lamb curry that I made especially for you."

It was the most amazing meal of his life. The meat was soft and tender. The potatoes were perfectly salted. The cheese was melting in his mouth.
"I've made this lemonade for you to go with this. And after this we've got chocolate lava cake. So keep some space free for that." She giggled.

How he loved her sparkly, wonderful giggle. It turned everything around him into a pool of silver and gold.

Once the lava cake was properly consumed, she brought forth his favourite daily newspaper and placed a pack of cigars next to him.
“Your cigars,” she said kissing him on the forehead.

He kissed her. "You're perfect."

He smoked his cigar while reading the paper. Once he was done, he looked around, and sure as every night, he turned to see that she sat with a cup of hot coffee and some playing cards.
“It’s our evening game time.” She smiled, and he saw how much more it added to her beauty.

They played and he won. He switched on the television. He kept flipping the channels and finally decided to watch the news.
“What’s the world coming to? These wars! This plunder. Really, they must put an end to all of this.” He shook his head and yawned.

“You’re so right, honey.”

He looked at her and saw her nodding sagely. Self-satisfied, he switched to the sports channel.

They went up to the bedroom where he changed into his teddy bear pyjamas and she wore her perfect silky nighty. He snuggled into his pillow happily thinking of a great night ahead when she brought him his cell phone,
"I’m so sorry but you have a message, love," she said. "I know you don’t like it when I don’t tell you about your messages that you might ignore otherwise.”

“That’s okay. Let me see who it is.”

He saw there was a voicemail. It was one of his friends from golf.

 “Hey, man. How’s it going? Just wanted to...uh. Oh for heaven’s sake, you know why I’m calling.” Cough. “Dude, you know that it’s been three months since I got divorced and I’ve been really lonely.” Cough. “Just. Okay. You know. So, umm, do you think you could…” Cough. "Possibly build me one of your contraptions too? I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just call me back. Bye.”

He laughed.
“Who was it, honey?”

“Oh no one.” He waved his hand dismissively as they switched off the lights and got into bed.

“Just someone telling me how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

Her eyes were so bright and her cheeks were so flushed at the compliment.
“Oh honey.”

“Oh yes, babe. I’m one lucky guy. And I’m buying you another diamond ring tomorrow.”

“Oh honey! You’re the best!”

He stroked her shoulder as she hugged him and kept thanking him with various other praises.

Version 1.1 of the Robot Housewife was one smashing success.

Read more by Mahwash here or follow her on Twitter @MhwshB
Mahwash Badar The author is a clinical psychologist, a mum to two boys and permanently in a state of flux. She tweets @mahwashajaz_ (
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