Kazia
Where am I? I wonder, my eyelids tightly shut. I try to open my eyes but can't. Feeling the warmth of someone behind me, I try to move but away but my body feels frozen; my mind is wide awake while my body refuses to respond. My alarm hasn't rung either, and worry fills me as I struggle to remember where I am or who is lying beside me. I try to speak, but no words come out. My eyes grow heavier, and my thoughts fade.
Slowly, I manage to open my eyes, adjusting to the dimly lit room. The musky smell fills my nose, bringing me back to the realization that I'm still in Aidan's room. I sit up, trying to recall what happened and why I'm in his bed, but I can't. The last thing I remember is eating rice and chicken with him. When did I fall asleep? I remember being awake a while ago, unable to move or remember where I was. I must have been very tired—maybe I passed out. I check the other side of the bed and see that it's empty. Has he left while I was asleep? I haven't even told him why I came to see him in the first place.
I hurry out of his room and into the living room, but he's nowhere in sight—not in the dining area or kitchen, either. I notice a note on the refrigerator that reads, "Breakfast on the counter." Beside me, a neatly covered plate sits on the counter. When I open it, I find four pancakes with scrambled eggs, berries, bananas, a bottle of date syrup, and a cup of coffee. Words can't express my happiness; the last time I experienced this kind of care was back at my father's house, before I moved here.
I'm not sure how much time has passed by the time I finish breakfast. I put the dishes away and settle in the living room, deciding to watch something until he returns. I can't risk leaving now, as I don't know when I'll see him next.
"It's almost noon," I mutter, checking the time on the large TV screen in the living room. I scroll through a few channels until I find something to watch—a Kung Fu movie.
…
The noise from the kitchen wakes me from my sleep. He's home. The TV is still on, but the movie I'd been watching has ended. I turn it off and make my way to the kitchen, where I see him in all his glory, wearing a white compression shirt and gray joggers. Sensing my presence, he looks over and greets me with a warm smile. My heart skips a beat at this simple gesture; I think I might actually be starting to like him. "Did you have lunch?" he signs, and I shake my head in response.
"Where did you go?" I sign back.
Instead of signing a reply, he points to the groceries on the kitchen counter, and I immediately understand. He went grocery shopping.
I make myself useful by helping him unpack and arrange the groceries in their places. When we finish, he brings out two takeout containers and puts them in the microwave. I can't contain my happiness when I see the contents: stir-fried spaghetti and barbecued chicken.
The microwave dings, signaling that the food is ready. He takes it out and serves it onto separate plates, handing me mine, and we both begin to eat. "Thank you," I sign. If he keeps this up, I'll end up falling in love with him. I want to know why he's treating me so nicely—is he finally acknowledging me as his wife? Does he like me? It seems unlikely, given how little time we've spent together. I feel the urge to ask but don't want to make things awkward, especially since I haven't mentioned the main reason I came to see him.
After we finish, I clean the dining area while he washes the dishes and puts them away. I keep glancing at him from where I stand, debating whether to start a conversation. He's been on his computer since lunch, and now seems like the perfect time to tell him why I'm here.
I stand up, walk over to the living area, and position myself in front of him to catch his attention. It works—he looks up at me with a questioning gaze.
"Can you spare me a moment?" I sign, and he nods.
Seeing his agreement, I explain my reason for coming: my difficulty reaching my father and my need for funds to support my children's home. I also share my frustrations about the way I'm being treated in the household while he watches me intently as I sign out my thoughts.
"In summary, what exactly do you want?" he raises his notepad to me. I must have bored him with my long explanation.
I take the notepad from him and write, "I need to get in touch with my father, and I'd appreciate it if you could lend me some money. I promise to repay you as soon as I resolve my bank issues." I hand the notepad back to him. He raises an eyebrow in amusement before jotting something down and passing it back to me. It reads, "What makes you think I'm capable of helping you?"
My heart sinks.
"You're my only hope," I sign. He's the only person I can turn to right now. If he can't help, I'm doomed.
There is no friend to turn to right now because I never had any. My stepsister made it her mission to chase everyone away, ensuring I was constantly bullied. I didn't let it get to me because I thought my father's love and support would be enough. But now, I'm in a difficult situation. Unable to reach him, I have no choice but to ask for help from my stranger husband, whom I barely know.
"You barely know me, yet you trust me to help you? What if I tell my stepmother about your request? She could harm you, and she'd get away with it," he writes.
"What did I expect from someone whose family locks away from the world?" I scoff.
"You're just as useless as I am," I sign and storm out of his room. There goes my last hope. The only thing left now is an escape plan. I have to get out of here.