Today feels strangely peaceful.
Like the world is holding its breath.
Everything around me is white and glowing. It doesn't blind me; it embraces me, like a warm mist curling around my skin. The air hums faintly, like a lullaby I can't quite remember.
I stand barefoot on something I can't see, yet I feel it…
Cool, smooth, like polished marble beneath my toes.
It feels solid, but there's a strange weightlessness in my legs, as if the ground could vanish at any moment.
My breath fogs faintly in the glow, though there's no cold here.
Then voices…
Laughter like wind chimes in the distance.
I walked toward the sound, and as I drew closer, the hazy shapes sharpened.
Slowly, they turn into familiar figures: Ma, Pa, Susi, Ingfah, Tan… everyone, even Rati.
'I thought she was working abroad. When did she come back?'
It didn't matter why. The blissful feeling washed over me, erasing any concern for logic or explanation, and I surrendered to it.
Their smiles were transcendent, radiating a joy so pure it felt as though they had been touched by the sun itself.
And then, I felt the most important presence beside me.
Fahlada… My Love…
My lips effortlessly curved into a smile that was pulled from my soul.
Fahlada reached for my hand, holding it tight, and I looked into her face as if seeing her for the very first time; she was brighter than I'd seen her in months.
She laughed at something I said. I didn't even remember speaking, but the sound of her laughter…
God… I could listen to it forever.
'This is what calm feels like,' I thought.
Almost like a dream you don't want to wake from.
But then, just as I was sinking into that peaceful contentment, a desperate cry cut through, sharp and sudden, instantly shattering the peace.
'A baby?'
My heart slammed against my ribs as I spun around, breath catching in my throat.
"Did you hear that?" I whispered, the words barely holding together.
But no one moved. Why?
Their smiles felt frozen, too bright, too perfect, like masks nailed to their faces.
Fahlada's eyes met mine for a brief instant, puzzled, distant, then drifted away and continued to smile like it was the only thing she could do.
The cry came again, louder this time, echoing through the whiteness like it had nowhere to go.
It scraped against my ears, impossible to ignore. The air itself seemed to pulse with it, vibrating under my skin, and I felt the world tilt, as if it might shatter with the next note.
I looked at the people around me, and no one seemed to notice it.
My hand slipped from Fahlada's as dread and urgency took hold. Her warmth slipped away like water through my fingers, but I didn't dare turn around. I couldn't.
The sound was pulling me, tugging at something deep inside my chest, and my heart raced with panic as I abandoned the comfort she'd given me.
The ground rippled beneath me like smoke, twisting and folding in impossible angles. I reached out, hands brushing nothing, fingers clutching air, my heartbeat drumming in my ears.
The cry came again, closer, then farther, then everywhere at once; echoing like it was inside my skull.
My throat tightened, but I forced the words out, breaking apart in the vast white void.
"It's okay… I'm coming for you…"
But I couldn't find it even as I stumbled forward and my feet sank into something I couldn't see, slipping, sliding as if the floor itself were liquid.
"Where are you?" I called, my voice barely carrying, swallowed by the emptiness.
The cry answered, sharp and mocking, just out of reach.
Then, a crib appeared, suspended in the endless white.
Alone.
A blanket inside shifted. Something moved beneath it.
"Baby?" My voice trembled, barely a whisper. My hands shook as I reached over the railing, pulling the blanket back.
But the crib was empty.
The cry returned, but it sounded further.
I spun in frantic circles, chasing the sound, but the whiteness stretched on endlessly, suffocating me as it bent, vanished, and left me dizzy and unsteady.
I fell to my knees, gasping for air that felt too thin.
My baby… I needed to find it.
"Wh—" I wanted to shout, but my throat went instantly dry, and a profound shiver of dread ran down my spine.
All of a sudden, the whiteness around me began to melt inward, like dissolving film or collapsing snow. As it vanished, an acute sense of panic took hold, intensifying as the luminous white was instantly swallowed by a vast darkness, leaving me the only one illuminated in a horrifying void.
Then a sharp, gut-wrenching, crushing pain instantly clenched my stomach. I looked down, and I was wearing a hospital gown drenched in blood.
I stumbled backward, my feet slipping on the endless black floor, my hands outstretched, desperate for someone, for anyone, to help me.
And then I saw her.
My wife… My love…
"Fahlada!" I cried out, a surge of relief swelling in my chest.
She turned slowly, but her face wasn't the one I knew.
Her eyes were cold and empty. Her mouth pulled back into a chilling, absolute look of disgust…
"This is your fault," she hissed, her words sharp as knives slicing through the silence.
"You couldn't even do a simple thing. I hate you!" she screamed, deafening and immediate. My ears rang like a catastrophic siren inside my head.
As the echo of her words faded, I noticed what she was holding.
In her arms was a crying baby, swaddled in white clothing that was melting horribly, into a stain of dark, spreading blood.
My eyes widened in shock, and I shook my head in disbelief as the cries suddenly stopped.
'No.. No.. No..'
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… I—" I gasped, my apology broken and futile.
Fahlada turned around and started to walk away from me, fading quickly into the boundless, indifferent black.
"Please… don't leave me. Please!" I cried out, begging her. Tears streamed down my face, but she didn't stop.
Don't let her go!
The scream inside my head tore through me like fire.
Yes… I have to chase her, cling to her, hold her, but my body refuses to move. I was paralyzed, pinned to the black floor like a broken doll.
"Please come back…" I choked out to her, my whisper lost amid my cries. I could only watch, utterly helpless.
And then…
BARK!
The loud, sudden noise shattered the darkness. I jolted upward with a sharp gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs as if I'd been running for miles.
Before I could process the terror, a wet nose nudged roughly against my cheek.
"To…fu…?"
He stood there on the bed, tail thumping softly against the sheets, his tongue gently licking away my tears. His wide eyes were full of worry.
He must have known.He must have heard me crying in my sleep.
I buried my face in his fur.
"I'm okay… I'm okay," I whispered to Tofu, though I wasn't.
The weight on my chest eased slightly, though my heart still pounded, and the remnants of the nightmare lingered in my mind,
'That same dream again, huh?'
'When will it ever stop?'
Tofu let out a soft whimper and licked me again, curling up beside me, his warm little body pressed against mine like he was guarding me from whatever it was that haunted my dreams.
The room was still dark, but I could see the pale shape of the stuffed giraffe on the windowsill.
I rose from bed slowly, my legs heavy, still carrying the memory of being unable to move in my dream. Tofu padded after me, tail swaying, keeping close.
I picked up the giraffe and hugged it to my chest. It still smelled faintly of vanilla and dust.
My throat burned, probably from the silent tears I hadn't known I was shedding.
Cradling the giraffe, I walked down the hall to get some water to drink… and Tofu ran ahead, stopping in front of the room I refused to acknowledge.
He barked softly, as if urging me to come closer. His nails clicked gently against the floor and then the door.
Reluctantly, I followed him toward the nursery. It had been weeks—no, months since I'd last crossed that threshold.
'Why inflict pain on myself? Why stand here and face the reality of an empty room?'
Our house helper usually took care of the house and garden on weekends, and my mom would occasionally come by to check on me or help with cleaning, but I refused to let anyone touch this room.
Even Fahlada hadn't been inside since the last… miscarriage.
My hand hovered instinctively over the doorknob, but my fingers began to tremble.
So, I pulled it back.
'No. I don't think I can do it. To look at that space… without Fahlada… I simply can't.'
I was already turning my back to leave when Tofu intervened. He barked softly, scratched at the wood, and then gently tugged the hem of my pajama pants, clearly trying to encourage me not to give up.
I felt a soft, fleeting smile touch my lips as I looked down at him, his tongue hanging out slightly. I bent down and gently petted his ears.
'Okay…maybe it's time… Tofu is with me, I can do this.'
I took a slow, deep breath. I stood staring at the door, seconds stretched into what felt like minutes before I finally pushed it open.
The air inside was still and cold. The vanilla scent was gone.
It no longer felt like a nursery; it felt like something frozen in time.
Like the moment we stopped believing, the room stopped breathing too. The walls were still the soft, gentle yellow we'd chosen because we thought it would feel warm, safe.
But it didn't. Not anymore.
The room just looked tired, as if it was holding back the same profound sadness that I have.
The curtains were still there, exactly how we left them. Hanging just right.
As if they were waiting for someone to come back and open the window, to let the light in and make this room mean something again.
I hadn't stepped inside since it happened. I used to stand right here in the hallway, staring at the door, my heart pounding, telling myself I couldn't do it.
That it was too soon.
Maybe next time.
But next time never came, not until today.
Tofu followed behind me, quiet and careful until his paw landed on a plush cow that let out a soft moo.
The sound made my heart jolt. Not from fear, but memory.
I could see it all so clearly, Fahlada and I, beaming like fools, the day we found out I was pregnant. We hadn't even finished crying before we were in the car, driving to the baby store.
For first-time parents, the excitement was overwhelming. Everything we saw, we imagined our child holding or needing. We were already picturing their future before their heartbeat had even settled.
Then we bought a set of soft animal toys for the crib, plush and colorful, with tiny stitched eyes and round bellies that made little sounds when pressed.
We laughed in the store, trying them one by one, imagining which would be our baby's favorite.
My heart landed on a giraffe.
It had a special feature that allowed you to record your voice, and we tried it.
"Hi, baby," I had said, smiling through tears. "We love you already."
Then Fahlada recorded with a smile as well: "We can't wait to meet you. You're everything we dreamed of. We love you…"
Fahlada had also insisted on buying the crib right away. But she didn't want one that was already built."I want to do it myself," she said.
And she tried, she tried so hard, but ultimately struggled with the last part.
I couldn't help but smile, a small, genuine laugh catching in my throat as I remembered it all.
It felt like yesterday when I heard Fahlada groaning in frustration while my dad simply chuckled and took over with his tools.
My mom was right there too, bringing in little decorations and saying things like,
"This corner needs stars. Babies love stars."
We were so happy. All of us.
This room felt vibrantly alive then.
I blinked back tears and looked toward the crib.
It stood in the center of the room, pristine and untouched.
Waiting for a life that never came.
I walked slowly to it and gently placed the giraffe inside. My arms didn't want to let go.
I smoothed the little blanket over it, and the tears came fast, sliding down my cheeks as I stared down at what could have been.
My hand stayed there longer than it should have, afraid to move, afraid to let go.
"Sweet dreams," I whispered, my voice cracking as tears streamed down my face.
Tofu padded over and pressed against my leg. I could feel his warmth, the kind that softened the pain in my chest. I let him stay beside me because I didn't want to be alone anymore.
I opened the window to let some air in. It was just past 4 AM. The sky outside hadn't turned blue yet, but I knew sleep wouldn't return.
After drinking some water to clear my head, I went back to my room and finally checked my phone. A few messages were waiting, including one from Tan that had arrived around 2 AM.
Tan:'Lada's here. Drunk. Passed out on my couch. I'm worried about you, Earn. Are you okay? Can I come over so we can talk?'
I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the reply box.
I typed something, then deleted it. Then typed again, then erased that too. Every word felt wrong, too soft or too harsh.
"Is she okay?"
Or maybe, "Tell her not to come back."
But that felt like too much…
I was still upset about the way she had reacted the night before. She told me she would come home early and have dinner with me, but then she came home late, as if it was nothing, as if I was some kind of stranger.
'I'm her wife!'
Of course, I want better treatment. I know how hard she has been working lately, but I just want a bit of her time, not just sympathy.
I felt guilty when I couldn't cradle her wants, when she tried to make love to me, but I don't feel like myself.
I look so thin now, and maybe… maybe she'll be disgusted once she really sees me.
How ugly I've become. My skin looks dry, my face pale and hollow.
When she left our room that night, I wanted to apologize, to explain, but she didn't come back. And the next morning, she said goodbye like nothing had happened.
So I let it go. I couldn't blame her. I'm a disappointment.
After that, she started coming home even later. She hasn't slept beside me, saying she doesn't want to wake me.
She thinks she's being considerate, sleeping in the guest room. But the truth is… I'm just waiting for her.
I want to tell her that. I want her, I want her to come lie beside me again.
But how could I?
I don't want to trouble her when she's tired. I couldn't even give her the one simple thing she wanted.
So how could I ask for anything? How could I possibly be okay with this?
I tapped on my phone and drafted the reply.
'No, I'm okay. Thanks for checking. Please give her some water when she wakes up.'
I sent it.
But what else could I say?
Tan wouldn't understand. No one would.
I lay back on the bed and immediately tried to close my eyes. But behind my eyelids, all I saw was Fahlada's face last night. Tofu curled up tightly beside me, letting out a soft whine, and I instantly knew I couldn't stay in this room.
"Let's go for a walk, shall we?"
The moment he heard the word walk, his ears perked up.
Tofu sprang to his feet, tail wagging wildly as he let out a happy bark and trotted in circles.
The morning dew dampening my skin felt relaxing, while Tofu quietly trotted behind me.
I walked barefoot into the garden. I've always liked the feeling of grass beneath my feet. Fahlada likes it too. We used to do this together before she left for work. But now, we barely see each other, even though we live in the same house.
I remembered the first time we walked through the door. While we already had a lake house in Italy, she found one near our workplace that was absolutely perfect, a place I immediately adored.
Fahlada gripped my hand, leading us into a future shimmering with happiness. We danced in this very garden after the housewarming, tipsy and laughing to a silly ringtone.
I recalled hiding behind the thick trunk of that pine tree, giggling like a child, and her playful chase.
"You're terrible at hiding," she said, laughing.
"I wasn't hiding," I'd said. "I was waiting for you."
'When did everything start to fall apart?'
I walked down the path toward the lake and started shivering, but I ignored it. I needed this feeling today; the cold, the sharp edge of the morning air.
Tofu followed, staying a few steps behind, like he knew I desperately needed space but wasn't about to let me be truly alone.
The water was still. Mirror-like.
I looked down and saw my own reflection.
"Look at you, Earn…" I whispered to the distorted image. "So ugly, inside and out…"
My gaze dropped to a flower flowing down the stream.
"Fahlada must hate seeing me like this. I've failed her. I've failed us."
That was the trigger. The tears came again. I sank onto the wet grass, pulling my knees to my chest, and cried into the misty morning.
There were people who loved me, people who were always around, but I still felt crushingly alone.
It was a kind of loneliness no one could reach, a pain that lived under my skin, always there, telling me I was both too much and never enough.
Maybe that's why I kept pushing them away. I didn't want anyone to see how deep the darkness really went.
But Fahlada… she saw it. She had always seen it.
And still, I kept pushing her away with the fear, the shame, the pieces of myself I never learned how to hold.
And now she was gone. Again.
Even though she kept her feelings locked away, I knew she was holding herself together entirely for my sake, trying to stay strong despite the crushing sadness.
She never once made me feel like it was my fault. She always said it happened for a reason.
'But why? Why me?'
I had trained my body, and I was so careful.
'I was ready to have our family.'
Maybe I overreacted. But how could I not?
We had been waiting and hoping for so long. And then, just like that, it was gone.
Everything slipped through my fingers before I could even grasp it.
Then it happened again, the second time. And this time, I couldn't even bear to look at her.
The way Fahlada blamed herself broke me. How could she blame herself?
If anyone should carry the blame, it should be me!
It's my body that carried the baby. I was supposed to protect it, to nurture it.
Yet I failed.
It was my responsibility. Whether she was there or not, it was my body, my fight.
And I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep them alive.
The guilt should be mine, not hers. And all I wanted was for her to hold me until the storm passed.
But she couldn't, and we were broken… before I even realized it.
And I couldn't lose Fahlada. Not like this.
I hugged my knees tighter, desperate for something solid to hold. As if sensing the depth of my need, Tofu lay down beside me, his head resting on my thigh. He didn't try to lick my face this time.
He just stayed.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stood up slowly, the wind curling around me.
"I want Fahlada," I whispered to the water, the words solidifying a decision.
"I'm not giving up on us. Not again. I have to fix this."
Tofu barked softly, as if confirming he understood. We then headed back inside. Tofu padded after me, waiting patiently for his food. I filled his bowl, gave him a soft pat on the head, then headed straight to the bathroom.
I ran a warm bath and poured in the familiar soap we'd picked out together in Phuket. As I sank into the water, I closed my eyes and let it hold me.
I just wanted to feel clean today, to let the weight of everything slip away, even just for a moment.
I put on my favorite playlist. Something soft. Familiar. Like hope in the background, asking for a better day.
I pictured Fahlada humming beside me and kissing me good morning. Laughing when I messed up the coffee machine…again.
The memory made me smile, even through the tears.
When I got out, I dried off and pulled on a soft orange dress.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Fahlada.
'I'm coming home, my love… I'll be there in a few minutes…'
I stared at the screen for a long time. My fingers hovered over the keys, but I didn't reply. Relief swelled in me. After everything, Fahlada was still the one who reached out first.
That simple message was enough to ease the sharp edges left by our fight.
But I couldn't waste precious minutes texting. My resolution was to do something, to make this reunion better than the last night.
I wanted her home soon, where I could show her, not just type it out.
To see that I was still here, that I hadn't given up.
I'm still waiting. Like always.
So I went to the kitchen to prepare something…
Something simple that we could both enjoy.
I pulled out bread for toasting and set eggs on the counter.
Tofu sat on the mat beside the stove, watching me closely, his tail thumping every time I glanced at him. But after a while, he wandered out, probably to play outside.
A few minutes later, I heard the gate open and a car pull in.
'Fahlada… Of course…'
I couldn't help but smile a little, but I stayed where I was, making an omelet.
My hands moved on their own, but my mind felt distant, drifting through memories.
I heard the door open, then the sharp, unmistakable click of Fahlada's heels drawing closer.
Every instinct screamed at me to run to her, to reach for her, but I forced myself to stay rooted in the kitchen.
I clung instead to the thought of her sitting down to eat, of us sharing a conversation like we used to, of her finishing breakfast before heading to work.
I wanted it so badly.
'I will make it possible'
Even with my back turned, I could sense her standing at the kitchen doorway. She didn't move, didn't say anything. The silence stretched until it became almost unbearable.
I knew I had to say something, anything, but the memory of my nightmare still wrapped itself around me, holding me in place, keeping me afraid.
I kept my back to her, using the stove as a frantic shield.
I had to start somewhere.
"Have you had breakfast?"
The words came out in a tone that was perfectly level, impossibly cold?
'No! That wasn't what I meant to say!'
I instantly wanted to take back the sharpness, to turn and embrace her. But I quickly calmed my nerves, held the pan steady, and focused.
For now, that distance felt safer; the question about food is easier than anything about our feelings.
It wasn't forgiveness, not yet, but it was a beginning, and beginnings, no matter how small, were enough to hold on to.