Lisa
The Grip of Agony
The clock ticked past 1:45 AM, a stark reminder of the late hour. "You're home," Jennie welcomed me, her arms wrapping around me in a hug that felt more like a desperate attempt to hold onto something slipping away. Her smile, usually a beacon of warmth, felt like a spotlight illuminating the cracks in our facade.
"Are you hungry?" Her feline eyes, once sparkling with excitement at the prospect of sharing her cooking, now held a desperate glimmer. It was a performance, a charade, and I was tired of playing along.
"I cooked your favorites," she said, her voice laced with forced cheer. "I'm sure you'll love it." She tugged at my hand, her touch a phantom limb against my skin. I let her lead me, my body a puppet on strings controlled by a puppeteer who no longer knew the script.
The dining table was set with my favorites, a testament to her efforts, a desperate plea for normalcy in a world that had gone askew. Her smile, once a source of comfort, now felt like a mask, a flimsy disguise for the truth that hung heavy in the air.
"It's late," I said, my voice flat. "Why are you still awake?"
"I waited for you," she said, her voice a little too high, a little too eager. "Plus, I called your secretary. She said you'd already left, so I reheated everything." The lie hung in the air, a grotesque parody of the truth.
"Come on, you must be hungry," she said, placing a plate of gamjatang in front of me. I avoided her gaze, my stomach churning at the sight of the spicy stew. Joohyun's instructions echoed in my mind: no spicy foods, no fried foods, no high-fat foods. Only vegetables, fish, low-fat meat, pasteurized milk, and eggs. A diet dictated by the cruel hand of fate.
Jennie noticed my hesitation. "Don't you like it?" I shook my head and tasted the food.
"Was it too spicy? Not spicy enough?" Her voice trembled, her eyes pleading for reassurance. I shook my head, the truth too heavy to articulate. She nodded, her smile faltering, and replaced the gamjatang with a plate of Godeungeo gui, grilled mackerel.
"It tastes good," I said, my voice a whisper. She smiled, a flicker of relief in her eyes. "You should eat too." She nodded, her gaze fixed on the food, her own appetite seemingly lost.
"How was your day at the hospital?" she asked, her voice a fragile thread in the silence.
"Busy," I replied, my words clipped, my focus on the food.
"I met Dr. Bae recently," She said, the mention of her name a stone dropped into the well of our fragile peace. I looked up, meeting Jennie's gaze. Why hadn't Dr. Bae mentioned this encounter? Had they met accidentally, or was it a deliberate meeting? Had Joohyun said anything about my illness? Had she told her about my fate? Questions swirled in my mind, a tempest of doubt and suspicion.
Jennie's eyes held mine, a torrent of unspoken emotions swirling within them. "Accidentally?" I asked, my voice a mere breath.
"Yes," she replied, her voice strained. "We ran into each other at the grocery store. I invited her for lunch."
"What did you talk about?" I pressed, the need for answers burning in my chest.
"A lot," she said, her voice flat, her gaze averted. She sliced a piece of meat, the motion precise, almost mechanical. "We talked about life, how she started at ASAN, and you... about how you two met." Her words were a carefully constructed wall, each syllable a brick laid in place to conceal the truth.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 (𝑺𝑳𝑶𝑾 𝑼𝑷𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑺)
फैनफिक्शन𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆? 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆? 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒚�...
