I sat on my seat, swinging gently left and right, my restless body betraying the storm in my head. My thoughts circled endlessly around Justin—like he was the only name the universe had written into my veins. The level at which he possessed me, the way he invaded every corner of my mind without permission, it felt like he should pay rent for living there. Rent-free wasn’t fair—he occupied me entirely.I let out a soft chuckle at the thought, though even that laugh carried a heaviness. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t charge him a dime. If anything, I’d be the one compensating him—for the endless overthinking, for how much I drowned myself in him without asking if he wanted to be my ocean.My eyes drifted across the room to the empty desk opposite me. It was bare, cold, unwelcoming—but the sight alone pulled another smile from me, wide and helpless. My heart squeezed in a way I couldn’t explain. Was this what madness felt like? I knew I was going crazy. Completely. And yet… I didn’t need
"I'm going too!" I pressed my lips together tightly, willing myself to keep my head high and remain still, even though my insides felt like they were trembling.Justin didn’t turn to look at me immediately. He simply continued buttoning his shirt, each precise movement of his fingers making me feel as if he was carefully trying to shut me out along with those buttons. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm."But the doctor said you need to rest." His eyes flicked to me over his shoulder, those blue orbs carrying a command that left no room for argument."You talk as if I’m going to mold concrete in that office," I shot back, my voice tighter than I meant it to be. "Come on, how do you expect me to pay you back and be a good employee if you practically push me away from the duties I ought to do?"The crack in my voice betrayed me. I didn’t want this—didn’t want to be told to stay behind. Stay at home all day while he leaves for work? What would I even be doing at home? This
Justin served the steaming porridge in the small dining section of the room. The soft aroma curled in the air, teasing my empty stomach. I went ahead and sat down, folding my hands in my lap as I waited. He moved with quiet precision in the kitchen, finishing up whatever last touches he had in mind.When he finally emerged, he untied the apron from his waist and hung it over the back of a chair. Without a word, he walked over and sat across from me. The faint scrape of his chair against the floor seemed loud in the silence that wrapped around us.We ate without speaking. I already knew it would be good—Justin had that calm confidence that only good cooks had—but I didn’t know it would be this good. Each spoonful carried warmth, not just from the temperature but from something deeper… something almost familiar. Apart from Nanny Patricia’s food, I couldn’t remember the last time a home-cooked meal tasted this right.It was like biting into a memory I didn’t realize I’d been starving for
I was anxious—scared somehow. This was going to be my second night in Justin’s place. But unlike the first, this one felt different… heavier. Too suffocating. Too choking, as though the walls themselves had moved closer overnight.I felt too seen, too taken care of—almost caged. Every single thing I did, he wanted to be part of it. He followed me around like a shadow, his eyes never straying too far from me. Every movement, every shift of my hand seemed to pull his attention.In my mind, a question gnawed at me.Will he follow me to the bath too?No… he wouldn’t. Right? That would be an invasion of privacy. Surely, even Justin had limits.But the more I sat there under the weight of his presence, the more I felt the invisible strings holding me down. I wanted to be free—at least for a moment. To breathe without the awareness of him watching me. To move without feeling like I was constantly being read. But with him here, that was impossible."I-I…" I bit my lower lip, searching for wor
I let out a long, shaky breath of relief after speaking with the nurse who had just helped me undress. She worked with calm efficiency, her hands gentle yet deliberate, as if she had done this a thousand times before. Strangely, she didn’t press me for explanations. She didn’t ask why I had chosen to disguise myself or pry into my reasons. It was as if she had already decided that whatever truth I carried, it wasn’t hers to demand.All she said, with a voice soft yet edged with caution, was,"Be careful out there. Not everyone you meet will see the good side of your intentions."Her eyes lingered on me for a moment — not in suspicion, but in quiet understanding.I nodded. Of course I did. What else could I do? Words felt inadequate. I thanked her sincerely, grateful for her silence and the unspoken trust she offered by not prying further.That evening, the doctor signed my discharge papers. With his permission, I was finally allowed to go home. Still, he advised much rest, minimal exe
A long silence followed after his mom left. The air was still, heavy with all the things I wanted to say but didn’t know how to. My throat tightened, my chest constricted—I had so much to say, but nothing came out.I watched him with a heavy heart. It wasn’t pity. No. It was something deeper, something that tugged painfully inside me. Something I didn’t have a name for.“Thank you,” I whispered. That was the only word I could think of. The only one that made sense in the chaos I felt.He said nothing at first. Instead, he grabbed the food he had bought for me, adjusted the table before me with calm precision, then dug into the food and offered me a spoonful.I hesitated.My fingers trembled slightly as I stared at the food. I wasn’t sure if this was right. After everything that had just happened, it didn’t feel like I deserved kindness. I still felt guilty. I still felt responsible for their fight.“I can feed myself,” I muttered, reaching for the spoon in his hand. But when I tried t