NORMAL
I sat on the bed with the plate in my lap, stuffing food into my mouth without even tasting it. It was already late.
The fuck.
I did set an alarm. Didn’t even hear it ring.
She was in the kitchen, after complaining—no, ranting—about how my food was bland and “unfit for human consumption.” So now madam had taken matters into her own hands.
My food wasn’t bland.
Maybe for someone used to five-star luxury meals… yeah, maybe.
I scoffed, glancing at the time again.
9:40.
My shift starts at 10.
Great. I’m cooked.
Just as I was about to get up, a sharp, shrill sound cut through the house.
Something metal hitting the floor. Loud. Sudden.
From the kitchen.
Not her again—
“Don’t set my kitchen on fire!” I shouted.
No reply.
I frowned.
That wasn’t normal.
I stood up quickly and walked toward the kitchen, a strange uneasiness creeping in.
And then I saw her.
Lying flat on the floor.
“What the fuck—”
I rushed to her side, dropping to my knees.
“Hey girl!—” I called, shaking her lightly.
No response.
Her body felt… off. Restless, but unresponsive.
Did she just faint?
Oh my god.
My day just keeps getting better.
I slipped one arm under her back and the other beneath her knees, lifting her up quickly and carrying her to the room. I placed her on the bed carefully, laying her flat on her back.
Think.
I elevated her legs slightly to improve blood circulation.
Unbuttoned the first few buttons of her shirt to loosen it.
Turned on the fan. Opened the window.
Air. She needs air.
My movements were fast, automatic—muscle memory kicking in before panic could fully take over.
I glanced at the clock again.
9:45.
I’m running late.
My foot tapped against the floor anxiously, my eyes shifting between the time…
And her still form on the bed.
I leaned down, tapping her cheek lightly.
“Hey… hey, wake up,” I said, my voice tight.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Slowly… painfully… they opened halfway.
Relief hit me for a second.
“Viyana,” I called.
No response.
Her eyes were open… but not there.
“Viyana,” I called again, this time louder, a little sharper.
Still nothing.
Her gaze drifted past me, unfocused, like she couldn’t even see me properly.
“Hey—look at me,” I said, gripping her shoulder gently but firmly. “Focus. Come on.”
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Her breathing slowly steadied, the uneven rise and fall of her chest calming little by little.
After a moment, her eyes opened—this time clearer, though still heavy with dizziness.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water.
When I came back, I helped her sit up slightly and handed it to her.
She held it weakly, taking small sips, her hands not entirely steady.
Her eyes looked… off.
Dazed.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Shut up, asshole,” she muttered.
I exhaled sharply.
Of course.
Even half-dead, her mouth worked perfectly fine.
“Yeah, I should’ve just shut the fuck up and laughed while you were lying there kissing the floor,” I muttered under my breath.
I picked up my phone and quickly texted my colleague that I’d be late.
She sat there, taking heavy breaths, her back pressed against the wall like it was the only thing holding her upright.
For a second, I just watched her—making sure she wasn’t about to collapse again.
And then—
Something hit me.
A smell.
Burning.
My eyes widened.
“Shit—”
I ran straight to the kitchen.
The pan was literally on fire.
“Are you serious right now—”
I rushed forward and turned off the stove immediately, grabbing a cloth and covering the pan to kill the flame. Smoke had already filled the space, thick and choking.
I coughed, waving my hand in front of my face as I rushed to open every windows so that my neighbors also get to enjoy the fragrance of disaster.
Perfect.
I stood there for a second, catching my breath, before walking back to the room, still coughing lightly.
“Can’t you turn off the stove before fainting?” I complained, fanning the air in front of me.
She didn’t reply immediately.
Just sat there… breathing.
Slow. Heavy.
Her head leaned back against the wall, eyes half closed, like even keeping them open was too much work.
I frowned.
Something still felt off.
“Hey…” I said, my voice lowering a little. “You okay now?”
She didn’t answer.
Not even a sarcastic remark.
I stepped closer.
Her face looked pale. Not her usual irritated, angry pale—but drained.
“Tch,” I clicked my tongue, crouching in front of her. “Don’t faint again. I’m already late.”
Still nothing.
Her breathing was steady, but her body… it looked weak.
I raised my hand and placed it against her forehead.
Warm.
Too warm.
“Great,” I muttered. “Now you have a fever too?”
Her brows twitched slightly, like she heard me but didn’t have the energy to react.
I stood up immediately, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
Perfect timing.
Just perfect.
I glanced at the clock again.
10:05.
I’m definitely late now.
“Shall I call your brother?” I asked.
She shook her head immediately.
A firm no.
I exhaled slowly and pulled a chair closer, sitting beside the bed, watching her carefully.
After a few seconds, she gathered herself, straightening up a little despite the weakness.
Then her eyes dropped.
To herself.
To the slightly open buttons of her shirt.
And suddenly—
She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over herself dramatically.
“What the fuck!” she shouted.
I flinched.
“Shhh! Are you trying to call the whole street?” I snapped, lowering my voice.
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“You tried to… harass me?” she asked, suspicion dripping from every word.
I shut my eyes for a second, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
Of course.
Of course this is where her mind goes.
“I unbuttoned the first few buttons so you wouldn’t feel suffocated,” I said, my tone flat. “It’s basic first aid.”
She stared at me.
Still unconvinced.
I let out a dry laugh.
“Yeah, because I clearly have nothing better to do than harass someone who just fainted and almost burned my kitchen down,” I added, a hint of sarcasm slipping in.
Her grip on the blanket tightened slightly.
But she didn’t argue back immediately.
Instead, her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than usual.
Like she was trying to figure something out.
“Whatever. Why did you faint?” I asked.
“Do I need to have a reason to faint?” she snapped, quickly buttoning her shirt back up.
I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah. People don’t just collapse for fun,” I muttered.
“Maybe I do,” she shot back immediately.
I scoffed.
“Your body is weak,” I said bluntly.
“The fuck? I am a strong woman,” she argued, glaring at me.
“Strong people don’t faint in kitchens and almost set houses on fire,” I replied, leaning back in the chair.
“That was an accident,” she said defensively.
“That was carelessness,” I corrected.
She opened her mouth to argue again…
But stopped.
Her brows furrowed slightly, like something didn’t sit right even with her.
I noticed it.
The slight pause.
The way her hand unconsciously pressed against her forehead.
“You didn’t eat properly, did you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
She didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
I let out a tired sigh.
“Great,” I muttered. “Fever, weakness, empty stomach… and attitude on top of it.”
“Shut up,” she said, but this time it came out softer.
Less sharp.
I glanced at her again.
Still stubborn.
Still defensive.
But underneath all that…
She looked tired.
We sat there for a long time without speaking, yet the silence between us didn’t feel empty. It felt… occupied. Like something unspoken was sitting right there with us, listening, waiting, refusing to leave.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
Somewhere along the way, I started talking to her. Not just a little—more than I should have. More than I ever allowed myself to with anyone. And that didn’t sit right with me. It shouldn’t sit right with me.
She is the reason I am trapped in this marriage.
The reason my life took a turn I never asked for.
I am supposed to resent her, to keep my distance, to remind myself every second of what she did.
I am not supposed to sit beside her like this, speaking casually, as if nothing ever happened between us.
But I did.
And I keep doing it.
Maybe it’s because I have been alone for too long.
Not the kind of loneliness where there is no one around—but the kind where no one truly belongs.
I had people in my life. Friends. Conversations.
Laughter that filled rooms for a while and then disappeared without leaving anything behind.
I could talk to them about ordinary things, about days that didn’t matter, about moments that passed quickly.
But I never had that one person.
The one who stays.
The one who listens without needing words.
The one who feels like a place you can return to.
I never had that.
And now, suddenly, there is someone in my house. In my space. Sitting across from me, arguing with me, challenging me, existing in ways I cannot ignore even if I want to. It feels strange, uncomfortable… almost intrusive.
And yet, I find myself responding.
Even when I shouldn’t.
Even when I know better.
Because no matter how much I hate her… no matter how deeply I resent what she did…
I can’t avoid her anymore.
Not when she has become a part of my everyday life.
“You have no option other than eating my bland food,” I muttered, my voice carrying a quiet irritation that I didn’t bother to hide.
She rolled her eyes dramatically, letting her head fall back against the wall.
“Oh my god,” she breathed out, staring at the ceiling like I had just committed a crime.
I didn’t respond.
I just sat there, my gaze fixed somewhere ahead, my thoughts louder than anything she could have said.
I should keep my distance.
I know I should.
There is a line between us—clear, sharp, undeniable—and I have already stepped too close to it. Maybe even crossed it without realizing.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
We are not supposed to sit in the same room and talk about food, about random things, about nothing. We are not supposed to exist like this—normal, almost peaceful, like two people who chose each other.
Because we didn’t.
There is nothing soft about what brought us together. Nothing gentle. Nothing worth remembering.
And yet…
Here I am.
Sitting beside her.
Letting this silence stretch instead of breaking it.
Letting her presence settle around me like it belongs here.
I clenched my jaw slightly, forcing my thoughts to stop before they went any further.
No.
This is wrong.
I shouldn’t get used to this.
I shouldn’t get used to her.
“You should leave my room very soon,” I said, my voice blunt, leaving no space for softness.
She scrunched her nose immediately, clearly offended.
“See my wound,” she said, pointing to her shoulder as if that alone should be enough to silence me.
I didn’t react.
“You are heartless,” she muttered under her breath.
A humorless laugh escaped me.
“Not more than you,” I said, my words sharp now, “who forced me to marry you.”
The room fell quiet after that.
The kind of quiet that doesn’t pass easily.
I stood up, picking up my bag without looking at her.
Because no matter how normal this moment had started to feel…
It wasn’t.
And it would never be.