Part 2The Platonic Husband Who Cannot Intimacy

Before Larry married into my family, he warned me that he was impotent.

We tried it once on our wedding night.

I lay on top of him for ages, coaxing and whispering sweet things.

In the end, he closed his eyes and whispered in a raw, tight voice, "I'm sorry. I... I can't."

I froze for a solid thirty seconds.

What an absolute waste of god-tier genetics.

Having a face like that just to keep it on display?

But he was just too beautiful.

His skin was so pale it seemed translucent, his eyes slightly rimmed with red, and his long lashes were damp. He looked so vulnerable, so quietly desperate to please.

I stared at him for a long time and finally let it go.

Keeping a gorgeous centerpiece in my house wasn't a bad deal, after all.

The next day, I had someone consult a traditional specialist, bringing home dozens of natural herbal remedies to boost his performance.

He drank every bitter cup without a single complaint, but nature refused to cooperate.

Eventually, I gave up on the hardware.

If the hardware didn't work, there was always the software.

He was incredibly talented with his hands, and his mouth was magic.

He never rejected a single request I made.

But he was never enthusiastic about it.

At first, I assumed it was just his physical limitation.

Later, I realized something was off.

He always took perfect care of me, yet he remained completely detached.

When we were done, he would hide in the bathroom for hours.

When I asked, he simply said he was washing up.

I hadn't thought much of it.

Nobody is perfect. With a face like that, how could I demand blazing passion too?

Not until tonight, when I saw the comments.

Only then did I realize that for all these years, he had been swallowing his disgust just to please me.