When my husband looks at me, he sees a wife making his supper, putting his next day's lunch together, bringing him cookies and milk for dessert.
What he doesn't see is what my mind is doing all that time. I'm in a house by the sea, living alone, making myself an omelette just the way I like it. I'm sitting on the beach writing a poem. I'm in a foreign country on vacation without him.
But, I'm definitely not in the house tending to him.