SHUT MY MOUTH
VIYANA SINCLAIR
I wiped the endless tears streaming down my face as I dramatically continued slicing the onions, blinking aggressively like I was fighting for my life, while this heartless human being stood beside the stove— smirking like he was watching some premium entertainment.
“You are heartless,” I accused, my voice shaky as my eyes burned like I had just unlocked a new level of suffering.
“I didn’t ask you to cut onions,” he replied instantly, mimicking my earlier sweet tone in the most annoying way possible. “ 'I want to help you,' you said.”
I turned and glared at him, which was honestly pointless because I couldn’t even see properly through my tears.
Before I could defend my dignity further, he suddenly walked up to me and snatched the knife straight out of my hand.
“Hey—!”
“Go,” he said, pointing toward the room like I was some stray cat that wandered into his kitchen uninvited.
I blinked at him.
“Did you just dismiss me?” I asked, offended on a spiritual level.
“Yes,” he said calmly, already turning away like I didn’t exist anymore.
I stood there for a moment, wiping my tears with the back of my hand, glaring at his back.
I hopped onto the kitchen counter beside him like I owned the place, swinging my legs lightly as I watched him silently chopping vegetables with that same serious face, as if he was performing some high-level surgery instead of cutting onions.
“Don’t you feel tired,” I started, grabbing a carrot from the cutting board without permission and taking a loud, dramatic bite, “working all day at the hospital and then coming here and doing all the household chores?”
He paused for a second and glanced at me.
Not at my question.
At the carrot in my hand.
But he said nothing.
I grinned shamelessly and took another bite.
“Answer me,” I whined, dragging the last word like an annoying kid who wouldn’t stop until they got attention.
He exhaled slowly, like he was mentally preparing himself to deal with me.
“No. I am habituated to this,” he said flatly, continuing his work like I was just background noise.
I nodded thoughtfully for absolutely no reason, chewing like I was deeply processing his life struggles.
Then I tilted my head slightly.
“Am I troubling you—”
“Of course,” he cut in immediately, not even letting me finish.
I froze mid-chew.
Offended.
“Rude,” I muttered.
“I am asking seriously… am I troubling you?” I asked, my voice quieter this time, stripped of its usual playfulness, as something heavy settled deep in my chest, making it hard to even breathe properly.
He stopped cutting.
The sound of the knife hitting the board went still, and for a moment, the entire kitchen felt… silent.
He turned his head and looked at me, properly this time.
“Why are you asking suddenly?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed, like he was trying to understand what changed.
I swallowed, my fingers tightening slightly against the edge of the counter.
“Am I doubling your work… like, you need to cook for me too —”
“An extra cup of rice in the pot won’t trouble me,” he cut in casually, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, as if it didn’t even require a second thought.
He had already turned back, continuing to cut the vegetables like nothing important had just been said.
A quiet smile found its way to my lips before I could stop it, soft and unguarded, as I quickly turned my face away, pretending to look somewhere else—anywhere but at him.
“But…” he said suddenly, and I turned to him, only to find his gaze already fixed on me, far too intense for something that started so casually.
Before I could even react, he raised his hand and pointed his index finger straight at my lips.
“This is what troubles me,” he said.
My breath hitched.
My mind—being the absolute traitor it is—ran in a completely different direction for a split second, and heat rushed to my face so fast that I could feel it burning through my skin.
What the hell—
“Your mouth,” he added calmly, destroying every single dramatic assumption I had just built in my head. “You never shut it. Always talking some nonsense.”
I blinked.
Oh.
OHH.
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my shoulders dropping as realization hit me like a slap.
Shit.
What was I even thinking just now?
I turned my face away quickly, rubbing my nose awkwardly as if that would somehow erase the last five seconds from existence.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, trying to regain whatever dignity I had left. “I speak facts, not nonsense.”
“Very loud facts,” he replied without missing a beat.
.....
ADITHYA MENON
“That’s a manufacturing defect. I could do nothing about it,” she said, completely unbothered, swinging her legs like she was sitting in some park and not on my kitchen counter.
“Nobody can shut my mouth,” she added, with that same shameless confidence that somehow always managed to irritate me.
I scoffed lightly, continuing to cut the vegetables, or at least pretending to—because at this point, I was just moving the knife without actually focusing.
“If you want to shut my mouth,” she continued, her tone turning oddly casual, “you can do only one thing.”
I didn’t even look at her.
“What?” I asked absentmindedly.
“If you kiss me, you can shut my mouth.”
Everything stopped.
The knife.
My hands.
My thoughts.
For a second—
I wasn’t even sure I heard her right.
I just stood there, staring at the cutting board like it suddenly held the answers to life, my mind going completely blank while her words echoed again and again, louder each time.
What did she just say?
I blinked, slowly turning my head toward her, my expression stiff, my voice slightly uneven.
“W-what did you say now?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“You can shut my mouth if you kiss me,” she repeated, just as casually, like she was suggesting I turn off the stove or pass her a glass of water.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Tightly.
As if that would erase the words.
As if that would somehow rewind the last ten seconds of my life.
But it didn’t.
My heart started fluttering in a way that felt completely unfamiliar, uneven and annoyingly loud, as my absolutely traitor of a mind decided to betray me at the worst possible moment, because before I could stop it, I imagined it.
Me.
Kissing her.
I shut my eyes immediately, tightly, like I could physically push that thought out of my head.
No.
No, no.
But it didn’t stop.
The image came back again.
Clearer this time.
Her face closer.
Her lips—
“Fuck off,” I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to her, as I abruptly turned away and walked to the side, grabbing a glass of water like it was some emergency solution.
I gulped it down quickly, the cold water doing absolutely nothing to calm whatever the hell was going on inside me.
“You’re sweating,” she said casually from behind, like she hadn’t just thrown my entire mental stability out of the window, as she calmly took another piece of carrot and munched on it like this was just another normal conversation.
I wiped my forehead quickly with the back of my hand, turning to glare at her.
“It’s hot,” I said flatly.
She nodded.
“You don’t think twice before saying the most absurd things?” I asked, my voice coming out a little more breathless than I intended, like something had quietly knocked the air out of me and refused to give it back.
She just grinned.
Casual. Shameless. Dangerous.
“Just for fun,” she said, waving her hand dismissively as if she hadn’t just derailed my entire thought process.
Then she picked up the knife.
And pointed it at me.
“Don’t try that stunt, mister. I will kill you,” she said, her tone light, almost playful, but the knife in her hand made it feel ridiculously serious.
I sighed heavily, dragging a hand over my face as if I could somehow wipe away the stupid fluttering in my stomach, the one that kept betraying me every few seconds.
“I would die hearing you yap instead of kissing you,” I said dryly, leaning back slightly, trying to sound unaffected—like her words hadn’t done anything to me at all.
She paused.
Then slowly raised her eyebrows.
“So you love listening to my yapping?” she asked, tilting her head, her lips curving into that knowing smile again.
“That’s not what I said,” I replied immediately, a little too quickly, turning away and pretending to focus on the vegetables again.
“Hmm,” she hummed, hopping down from the counter and walking a step closer, clearly not convinced.
I clenched my jaw slightly, gripping the knife tighter than necessary.
“I said I’d rather die,” I muttered.
She leaned in just a little.
“You’re ready to die… but not ready to kiss me.”she whispered dramatically.
My heart started thudding so loudly against my ribs that I was half convinced she could actually hear it, each beat uneven and out of control as my fingers trembled slightly at my sides.
I turned to face her fully.
I didn’t want her to think I was backing off.
I didn’t want to look like a coward in front of her.
“No one wishes to kiss your foul mouth,” I said, forcing the words out, even though my own heartbeat was betraying me completely.
She didn’t even flinch.
Instead—
She stepped closer.
Slow. Confident.
“People would say it was their pleasure to kiss me,” she said, her voice calm, like she truly believed every word she spoke.
I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the sudden tension creeping into my chest.
“Seems like you kissed a lot of people,” I muttered, raising an eyebrow.
“I never kissed anyone,” she said instantly.
Proudly.
Like it was some achievement she was announcing.
I blinked.
“Then how are you saying people would call it a pleasure?” I asked.
She shrugged lightly.
“I just said it to annoy you,” she winked.
“I won’t be annoyed,” I said quickly, turning my face away for a second just to steady myself. “I don’t care who you kiss.”
She stepped closer again.
Close enough that I could actually feel the shift in the air between us.
“I never kissed anyone,” she repeated, her voice softer now, like she was placing the words carefully between us.
Then she tilted her head slightly.
“Are you a good kisser?”
My breath hitched instantly.
My eyes widened before I could stop it.
What—
Is she serious?
Is she messing with me?
Is she… out of her mind?
I knew she was teasing.
I knew it.
But my brain refused to cooperate.
Because instead of forming a proper response—
It went blank.
Completely blank.
All I could focus on was how close she was.
How my heart was now racing like it was trying to escape my body.
And for the first time—
I didn’t have a single sarcastic reply left.
I had never kissed anyone.
Not in all these years.
Not even in the one relationship I had foolishly believed in—one that barely lasted a few months before it ended with betrayal, leaving behind nothing but a quiet kind of disappointment I never really spoke about.
And even then…
I had waited.
For my ex to take the first step.
She never did.
And I never tried to kiss her.
“Won’t it be a shame for you to kiss a nurse who works in your hospital?” I asked, my voice coming out lower than usual, steadier than I actually felt, as I tried to ground myself in something logical—something normal.
She squinted her eyes slightly, thinking.
Then hummed.
“Hmm… have you read stories or watched those short dramas where a rich CEO falls in love with their employee?” she asked, tilting her head with that mischievous glint in her eyes.
“I am the CEO… and you are the employee,” she said.
Why does she say things like this so easily?
I exhaled slowly, but it did nothing to calm the rising panic creeping through me as I felt my palms growing warm, slightly damp, my heartbeat refusing to slow down.
“Like those stories…” she continued, her voice dropping just a little, softer, almost teasing, “where they make out in some dusty room without getting caught…”
She stepped forward.
And the distance between us—
Disappeared.
My back stiffened instinctively, my mind screaming at me to step away, to say something, to stop this before it went somewhere I wasn’t ready for.
But my body— didn’t move.
I could feel her presence now, too close, too real, too overwhelming for my already chaotic thoughts to handle.
“Are you always this bold,” I muttered, my voice barely above a breath, my eyes flickering away from hers for a second before returning again.
“I always say what’s in my mind,” she muttered, her voice lowering just enough to make the air between us feel heavier than it already was.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, even though my mind had gone completely blank, refusing to give me a single proper thought to hold onto.
“If I start saying what’s in my mind… you can’t handle it,” I said, the words slipping out more out of instinct than confidence.
She didn’t step back.
Didn’t even hesitate.
Instead, that smirk slowly spread across her lips, calm and dangerously amused.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said.
My jaw tightened as I forced myself to breathe, anything to calm the chaos raging inside me, because if I didn’t get a grip right now, I knew I would completely lose my mind.
Before I could think twice, I placed my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back—firm enough to create distance, gentle enough to not hurt.
“Get. Out,” I muttered, my voice low, final, leaving no space for argument.
She tilted her head slightly, that same infuriating smirk still playing on her lips.
“Just agree you can’t handle me,” she said, like she had already won something I didn’t even know we were competing for.
Then she turned and walked out.
Finally, I exhaled.
A long, heavy breath that felt like I had been holding it for minutes.
I leaned forward, both my hands pressing against the counter as I took off my glasses and shut my eyes tightly, trying to gather myself, trying to silence the storm inside me that refused to settle.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
My thoughts were a mess.
My head spinning.
And my heart…
My heart was the worst of it all.
This woman is going to be the death of me.