Earn woke before the sun; the lake outside was still shadowed in early morning haze. She reached across the bed out of habit, but the other side was empty.
She sat up slowly, staring at the space for a moment before forcing herself to move.
Today, she wanted to do something to feel close to Fahlada again.
'Maybe a lunch box.'
Something simple, something that said, 'I still care.'
In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and started pulling out ingredients. The sound of the knife against the cutting board filled the silence.
A soft thud at her feet made her glance down. Tofu sat there, tail wagging, eyes bright and expectant. Earn bent down to scratch behind his ears, and he leaned into her touch, nudging her hand with his nose as if silently telling her she had someone by her side.
She smiled faintly, letting the small comfort from Tofu lift her spirits, but the smile vanished when her eyes fell on a note on the counter that said it all.
Fahlada had already gone, and after a few minutes, Earn received a text from her saying she had arrived at work, just their usual routine.
Earn stood still, her hands gripping the counter. She had woken up early for this, just to catch her, to see her face before the day started.
But she was too late. Again.
'How long do they have to act like this?'
Lately, seeing Susi had helped. Just a little. Going out with her, talking about things that had nothing to do with the silence at home, like network updates, new shows, and even gossip from the industry. It gave Earn something to hold onto.
A breath of air above the surface.
She had decided not to return to acting, at least not for now. It wasn't because she didn't miss it; she did, deeply, but because she wanted to make up for the distance between her and Fahlada.
She wanted to be present again, to show she was still trying. Still choosing her.
But there were moments when she thought about telling Susi everything. About the way the house felt bigger now, colder.
How she sometimes stood in the doorway of their bedroom, staring at the untouched side of the bed, wondering how to explain that Fahlada hadn't slept beside her in weeks.
How could she say that out loud?
How could she explain that the person she loved most had become a stranger in her own home?
That she missed not just Fahlada's presence, but the warmth of lying next to her at night, the comfort of shared space she had once taken for granted.
When Earn finally drifted off to sleep, Fahlada would slip back into the house like a shadow; quiet, careful, almost hesitant. She'd peek in to make sure Earn was resting, then retreat to the other room, leaving only the faint trace of her presence behind.
By the time Earn woke, Fahlada was gone again, leaving nothing but a brief text or a simple, almost careless note.
A silent retreat, Earn had no right to question, not after she was the one who had pushed her wife away.
She never meant to create this distance between them, but every time she saw her wife, guilt clawed at her chest, a relentless reminder of everything she had failed to do for them.
She felt undeserving of Fahlada: of her warmth, her patience, her love…
"I was nothing but a failure of a wife." She kept telling herself.
And she had built this wall, brick by brick, and now it loomed impossibly high, each stone heavier than the last. She didn't know where to even begin tearing it down.
Yet, despite everything, a small flicker of hope remained whenever Fahlada showed a little appreciation for the meals she prepared at night, eating them in the morning, and leaving a note that said something like, "Thank you, it was delicious, my love."
Those little gestures had been enough to make Earn feel seen and loved.
She used to keep herself sane with Fahlada's letters. Every day, Earn would find scraps of paper, folded carefully at the bedside cabinet, filled with words of reassurance and love. They were her lifeline, gentle reminders that things would be okay, even when they weren't.
She had always wanted to write back, to send her own words of love and comfort. But every time she tried, her pen faltered. The letters twisted into confessions of self-reproach, endless apologies, proof of everything she had failed at.
She never finished them.
And lately, she hadn't received any letters. The notes came less often. The text messages were shorter. The silence between them was growing, and Earn didn't know how to stop it.
'Am I disappearing from her life? Or has she already gone, and I am just pretending not to see it?'
Nevertheless, she believed Fahlada loved her. So tonight, she would make an effort.
She would wait for her until she comes home, cook her favorite soup with a side of noodles, and send a message:
'Let's eat dinner tonight, my love. I'll wait for you.'
__
'I'll be home soon.'
Fahlada typed, sending the message to her wife, as fatigue settled over her shoulders like a weight she couldn't shake. Shadows from the tall window stretched across the floor, marking time she hadn't noticed passing. She lifted her coffee cup, took the last sip, savoring the faint warmth and bitter taste.
Setting the empty cup aside, a sigh escaped her lips, and with a reluctant stretch, she straightened, gathering the last of her notes and charts.
The day had already been long, longer than she wanted it to be, but she'd made the choice not to join the small gathering with the hospital staff and interns. Now, with most tasks wrapped up, she had only the final checks to cover, filling in minor gaps she could have avoided.
An unseen presence made her pause mid-scribble. She felt it before she saw it: a soft shuffle near the office door.
"You know, you work harder than anyone I know," said a woman's voice, low and soft. She stood by the office door, studying Fahlada's movements.
"Patients don't treat themselves," Fahlada said, her eyes still fixed on the charts, as the woman walked towards her and said, "Still… even a great doctor like you needs rest, or you'll get sick. You need someone to talk to, someone to lean on, someone to comfort you…"
Fahlada let out a dry chuckle, finally glancing the woman's way.
"Comfort me, huh? I don't think my wife would be too thrilled to hear that, Tanya."
Tanya's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. She stepped closer, her movements measured and teasing. "Your wife isn't here to hear that. Is she?"
Fahlada's brow furrowed, a flicker of unease crossing her face. Her mouth opened, ready to reply, but Tanya pressed a single finger gently to her lips. She froze, heart skipping a beat at the sudden, intimate gesture.
Tanya's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, feeling Fahlada's lips brush lightly against her finger. A thrill ran through her as their gazes locked. She could almost imagine the warmth of Fahlada's breath against her skin.
"I'm not saying anything wrong," Tanya murmured, her voice soft but charged. "Without your wife here… I can do anything you want, anything… because—" She moved closer, and when Fahlada didn't pull away, a flicker of confidence crossed her face. Leaning toward Fahlada's ear, she whispered, low and seductive, "I care about you… more than you realize."
The words sent a shiver down Fahlada's spine. Instinctively, she stepped back, trying to put some distance between them, though her body betrayed the tension she couldn't hide.
"Are you drunk or high?" Fahlada's voice sharpened with concern and disbelief. Tanya wasn't even supposed to be here. Fatigue from the long day settled on Fahlada, leaving her momentarily dizzy.
It was so unlike her… so bold, so unsettling.
Tanya stared at Fahlada with an alluring smile. "Maybe a little of both…" she said simply.
"You're a doctor! What the hell are you thinking?! You know what? You should go home!" Fahlada snapped, striding toward her table to gather her things. Her mind raced, a swirl of conflicting thoughts, while Tanya remained perfectly still, her gaze locked on Fahlada, following every movement.
Tanya's confession still hung in the air between them, and Fahlada couldn't ignore the weight of it. She couldn't deny it. Tanya had a way of slipping into her life, soft but insistent, leaving traces she hadn't expected. Every shared laugh, every story over coffee, even the little meals Tanya brought her, lingered in her thoughts long after the moments passed. She knew she should keep her distance and remind herself of boundaries, but each gesture tugged at something she hadn't fully admitted.
She liked having Tanya around more than she cared to admit.
Even though she always knew the truth of Tanya's feelings, she had never pushed her away. The closeness lingered, sweet, intoxicating, and dangerously tempting.
It twisted in her chest like a coil tightening with every heartbeat.
She needed clarity. She needed to end this one-sided tension before it consumed her entirely.
The thought, now intertwined with the memory of Tanya's words, both thrilled and terrified her.
Turning back to Tanya, Fahlada's eyes widened slightly.
Tanya had closed the distance, standing just an inch away, and Fahlada caught the faint sweetness of her perfume. Vanilla threaded with fading lavender wrapped around her senses, warm and inviting. Tanya's gaze held hers, searching, silently asking for something unspoken. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Tanya reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from Fahlada's cheek.
Their eyes locked, and Tanya leaned in, as if ready to risk it all.
Fahlada startled, tilting her face just in time to escape Tanya's lips. The tension snapped, sharp and sudden, like a taut rubber band. "Doctor Sirin," she said warningly, "Don't…"
Tanya pulled back, biting her lip. "Sorry. I thought—"
"You thought wrong." Fahlada grabbed her coat and slung it over her shoulder; her face appeared furious.
"We're done for today."
She tried to walk away, but Tanya caught her hand.
"Fahlada, please, I'm sorry… I don't want you to leave angry with me. It won't happen again."
"As it should," she replied. "Listen, I appreciate that you're looking after me. I know you do things for me to lighten my workload, but I'm married and…" she took a deep breath, then exclaimed, "I love my wife!"
'And I love you,' Tanya wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat.
"I get it," she said in desperation, "And…I know that, but I still want you.. P'Mor…" Tanya gasped, tears welling in her eyes.
Fahlada froze, her eyes tracing every line of Tanya's face. The soft tremor in Tanya's voice, the slight parting of her lips with each word, drew her in despite herself.
She couldn't look away.
Her mind began to cloud, thoughts tangled between reason and something far more consuming. Her body felt heavy under the weight of everything: her wife's distance, her own exhaustion, and the pull she felt toward Tanya.
Each glance, each whispered plea, wrapped around her senses, making it impossible to deny the magnetic pull between them.
Her emotions swirled in confusion: anger at herself, frustration at the situation, and a sharp pulse of something else, longing for something simple.
For connection. For escape…
Before she could talk herself out of it, Fahlada let her coat fall and stepped forward, pressing Tanya against the wall with more force than she intended. Her hands gripped Tanya's wrists just above shoulder height, pinning her in place. Her breath came in uneven gasps, and her heart hammered in her chest, every pulse magnifying the tension between them.
Her eyes locked onto Tanya's, and in that instant, she really saw her.
Not just the woman standing there, but everything behind the gaze. And it hurt, as she took in Tanya's wide, amber eyes, her trembling lips, soft and parted like she was on the verge of speaking or breaking. The quiet vulnerability mirrored her own.
And in that moment, she hated how much she wanted to forget everything.
Just for a breath.
Just for… a kiss.
Fahlada lifted a hand to the other woman's face, her fingers trembling as they traced the jawline. She leaned in close, near enough for Tanya to feel the warmth of her breath.
Their cheeks brushed, lips a whisper apart, suspended between desire and hesitation. In that moment, Fahlada's mind drifted to the woman she longed for above all else.
'Earn…'
Then, just as suddenly, she pulled back.
"This is wrong," Fahlada whispered, each word heavy with regret. Her hand trembled as it slipped from Tanya's, falling to her side as if letting go of more than just a touch. She stepped back, and every movement away felt like a betrayal of something she could never confess.
"I… I need to go." She turned and hurried toward the door, leaving everything behind. She didn't look back, though the memory of the moment clung to her as she walked away.
Tanya sank slowly to the floor, her back sliding against the wall. She hugged her knees, chest tight, mind spinning with the memory of Fahlada's lips so close, and then gone.
'What have I done…?'
__
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"She's late again," Earn murmured, glancing at the clock as her fingers absently ran through Tofu's soft, golden fur.
The golden retriever sat faithfully beside her on the kitchen floor, tail curled, ears perked as if he understood.
"Well… we should wait a few more minutes, right?"
Tofu barked in response and gently licked Earn's hand, his big eyes full of curiosity. She was a warm presence, fluffy, patient, always ready to offer comfort.
'The one gift from Fahlada that mattered most.'
His head rested briefly on Earn's lap, the way he always did when sensing her sadness.
The television in the kitchen played a half-watched drama in the background, but neither of them was really paying attention. The dining table was set for two, bowls of now-cold soup sitting untouched. Earn sat at the table, her hands kept scrolling on her phone, gaze drifting between the door and the clock.
She'd received a text from Fahlada about two hours ago: "I'll be home soon."
But there had been nothing since. No calls. No follow-up. She wasn't exactly worried; this happened often now, but it still stung.
The dish she had prepared had been her attempt to reconnect.
A small gesture.
A gentle step forward.
But as the silence stretched on, all she felt was emptiness.
The door finally creaked open a little past eleven. Fahlada stepped in, her face drawn with exhaustion.
Tofu trotted to the entrance, tail wagging in delight. She gave a hopeful bark and nudged Fahlada's leg. Fahlada patted him absentmindedly but didn't linger.
Tofu's tail wiggled hopefully for another pat, but Fahlada had already walked past him.
"I'm home," Fahlada called out, her voice tired as she headed straight for the stairs without looking back.
Earn rose slowly from her seat, her movements deliberate as she met Fahlada at the bottom step, her eyes searching her wife's face.
"I made dinner," she mumbled with a hint of expectation.
Fahlada paused mid-step. Her eyes flicked toward the kitchen, then back to Earn. Her shoulders sagged slightly, not just from exhaustion, but from the weight of everything she couldn't say.
She knew they were supposed to have dinner together. She hadn't meant to be late. She hadn't meant to forget. But after what happened at the office, she just couldn't face Earn right away.
Fahlada had sat in her car for what felt like forever, trying to compose herself. Her phone was still at the office. Her bag too. She was lucky her car key was already in her pocket. Otherwise, how could she explain going home without her car, without her things?
She told herself that as soon as she got home, she would tell Earn about what happened. She never wanted to hide things from her wife, and Earn would surely understand.
She always did.
Then, they could take a break, go to their lake house in Italy, and reconnect.
But how could she explain something she barely understood herself?
They had felt so disconnected, 'Maybe that was why it had happened in the first place.'
Fahlada looked at Earn, who stood quietly at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes looked tired, almost sleepy, but there was something else, something waiting.
Fahlada swallowed hard, her throat tight. Her voice came out shakier than she intended.
"Ohh… Ahmmm. It's been a long day," she said, rubbing her temple, trying to mask the tremble in her hand.
"Let me take a shower first."
"Sure." Earn nodded, but her tone betrayed her restraint.
"I'll reheat the food. What's a few more minutes, right?"
Fahlada stopped, sensing the edge in Earn's voice. Her brows furrowed.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, her tone sharpening.
"Nothing… just go take your shower," Earn replied, turning away.
Something inside Fahlada was triggered. She crossed her arms, her posture stiff. She didn't want an argument. Not tonight. But the pressure had been building, and she couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Okay, if you have something to say, just say it now." Her voice rose slightly, not in anger, but in desperation.
Earn turned back, her own frustration surfacing. "Why are you angry?" she asked, trying to keep her composure but failing to hide the sting.
"I'm not angry. I was simply asking you," Fahlada replied, her tone defensive. She hated how it sounded, like she was deflecting, but she couldn't help it. She was tired, overwhelmed, and unsure how to explain everything.
Earn took a breath, her voice softening but still strained.
"It's just… I waited for you. You said you'd be home soon. You didn't call. You walked in like it's just another day. Do you even know what time it is?"
Fahlada looked away, guilt flickering across her face. She did know.
She just didn't want to admit it, that she made a mistake.
"I forgot. I got caught up. What do you want me to say?"
Earn stepped closer, her voice low but intense.
"I'm not asking for a lot. Just… let me know. Let me feel like I still matter."
"I didn't do anything wrong…" Fahlada's voice cracked as she nearly shouted, trying to control the tears that threatened to spill. She wasn't sure if she was defending herself or begging to be understood.
Earn studied her wife, taken aback by the sudden intensity. She didn't voice the thought, but it echoed bitterly in her mind. She was expecting a sorry, not defensiveness. Still, she hadn't noticed what was truly troubling Fahlada, hadn't seen the silent confession buried beneath her words.
Earn let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor.
"You think this is about being right or wrong?" She inched forward, her voice choked with emotion as she continued, "I feel invisible, Fahlada. Like, I don't even exist in your world anymore. You barely talk to me. Your messages are short, distant. We don't sleep in the same bed. You're never really with us! When was the last time you even played with Tofu? I know I pushed you away that night… but you should already know how much I need you now."
Fahlada couldn't respond. Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. Guilt pressed against her chest, but beneath it simmered frustration.
'You were the one who was keeping a distance. You shut me out. What did I do wrong to end up in a situation like this? '
She wanted to hurl those words, to make Earn see her side, but she knew better. Saying them now would only make things worse.
Tofu, sensing the tension in the room, began barking. Sharp, high-pitched yelps echoed off the walls, filling the space with noise and unease.
"Shh… It's okay, baby," Earn whispered, crouching down to soothe him. She rubbed behind his ears gently, her voice soft and trembling. But the barking wouldn't stop.
Fahlada winced, pressing a hand to her throbbing temples. She closed her eyes, trying to push away the pressure building behind them. But the sound, the tension, the shame over moments with Tanya, it all snapped something inside her.
"Tofu! Shut up!"
The puppy flinched and whimpered, retreating to a corner and curling into himself.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Fahlada?! You don't have to shout at him!"
Fahlada's frustration surged. She turned to Earn, voice tight with irritation.
"If this is how it's going to be… maybe I never should have come home."
Earn froze.
The words sliced through her like sharp ice.
'Did she really just say that?'
Her breath caught, sharp and painful, as if her lungs had forgotten how to work. Her heart thudded violently against her ribs, each beat screaming 'Don't let her go.'
'After everything… this is what I get?'
She wanted to scream, to shake Fahlada until she remembered what they were fighting for. But all she could do was stand there, wavering, her voice cracking under the weight of everything she'd held back.
"Then go!" she cried, the words ripping out of her like a wound. "Leave!"
But even as they left her lips, regret flooded in. 'No, no, I didn't mean that.'
Fahlada stared at her, teeth gritted, eyes heavy with distress. Then she went past them and walked out.
The door slammed shut.
Earn couldn't move. The silence was deafening.
She waited, 'please come back, please come back,' but the seconds stretched into eternity.
And then, in the quiet, her voice broke into a whisper.
"I'm sorry… Please… don't go…"
She dropped to the floor beside Tofu, who immediately crawled toward her, whimpering, licking her arms, trying to offer what little comfort he could. Earn wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in soft fur.
As the sound of the car pulling away faded into the night, Earn whispered, brokenly,
"I thought… no matter what happens… we'd always have each other."