In My Restless Dream

I curled up on the couch, my face against my knees. My father's words kept replaying in my mind.

One million dollars.

Every month.

I did not have any delusional disorder. I was just a fool someone had locked in a cage.

The lock clicked softly.

My husband, Kyle Weiss, was home.

He took off his coat elegantly. When he saw me, his brow furrowed on instinct.

"Aria, why are the lights off again? The doctor said you need more sunlight."

He came over and placed his palm on my forehead, his voice gentle.

"Are you feeling sick today? Did you take your medicine on time?"

I looked up and met his concerned eyes.

This man… I had loved him for five years.

Three years ago, he said my mental state was getting unstable right after we got married and took me to a psychiatrist. The doctor then diagnosed me with severe delusional disorder.

From that day on, my world shrank to this apartment and the white pills Kyle brought home.

He said my parents had died in a car accident when I was in college.

He said I kept imagining I was a wealthy heiress, and that it was an illness that needed treatment. He said he had sold the apartment and the car and even emptied all his savings to pay for my treatment.

I believed him.

My heart ached over everything he had done for me. So, I took my medicine as I was told and cooperated with the treatment. I wanted to get better as soon as possible so I would not be his burden anymore.

Now that I think about it, all of it was like a big joke.

I looked at him, my throat dry.

"Kyle, are we...out of money?"

I could see a faint hint of caution appeared in Kyle's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by heartache. He sighed and pulled me into his arms.

"Are you overthinking again? You don't need to worry about money. You have me."

His embrace had once been my refuge. But now, that same warmth had been replaced by nothing but bone-chilling coldness.

I gently pushed him away and said, "I handed out flyers today and made fifty dollars."

I spread the sweat damp bill in front of him.

Kyle froze. His expression quickly darkened and he grabbed my wrist with great force.

"Who said you can go out like that? Aria, your condition has just gotten a little better! Do you want to relapse?!"

His voice rose, and the gentleness on his face seemed to crack.

He was so loud that I shuddered. It was the harshest he had been with me in three years.

"I... I just wanted to help and take some stress off you..." I lowered my eyes, my voice barely audible.

Kyle's chest heaved as he stared at me for a long time. He let go and pulled me back into his arms again in the end, as if all the strength had been drained out of him.

"I'm sorry, Aria. I didn't mean to yell. I was just too worried about you."

He took the familiar pill bottle out from his pocket and shook two white pills into his hand.

"Good girl. Take your medicine and everything will be alright."

I stared at the pills in his hand, and my stomach churned. It was these things that had kept my mind foggy for three whole years.

I took the pills and put them in my mouth before I took a sip of water. The pills slid to the back of my tongue and I held them there.

"I'm going to bed," I said as I walked unsteadily toward the bedroom.

The moment I closed the door, I rushed into the bathroom and spat the pills into the toilet. Then, I flushed them down.

I turned to look at the face in the mirror amidst the sound of rushing water. That pale face was unfamiliar to me.

My dear husband. The man who I shared the bed with…

I would keep playing my part in his little performance.