The Nightmare and Uneasy Thoughts
1989 Words
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. The warmth of his arms wrapped around me should have been comforting, yet my body trembled. My chest felt heavy, my breathing uneven. I opened my eyes in panic, my forehead damp with sweat. My heart was still racing from the nightmare.
I dreamt that he had a wife.
A wife.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off the image of him standing beside a woman in a white dress, her hand wrapped possessively around his arm. My stomach churned. I wanted to wake him up, shake him, and demand answers for something that wasn’t even real.
Before I could move, I felt his arm tighten around me. He pulled me closer, his lips pressing against my forehead. His voice was groggy yet gentle.
"What’s wrong… do you want water?"
I swallowed hard. My throat was dry, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the nightmare or the absurdity of it all. I let out a quiet sigh and shook my head.
"No… nothing."
I turned to my side, facing away from him, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. His warmth surrounded me again, and despite my lingering unease, my body naturally relaxed in his embrace. Sleep found me once more.
The next morning, the memory of my nightmare hit me like a slap.
I sat up in bed, rubbing my temples. He was still asleep beside me, his arm draped lazily over my waist. His breathing was slow and steady. I hesitated for a moment before nudging him.
"Hey, wake up."
He groaned, burying his face in the pillow. "Mmm… five more minutes."
I wasn’t having it. I poked his cheek. "I had a nightmare last night."
His eyes peeked open, his lips curling into a sleepy smirk. "And?"
I crossed my arms. "You had a wife."
That woke him up. His brows furrowed as he blinked at me. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, and a chuckle escaped his lips.
"A wife?" he repeated, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Damn, was she at least hot?"
I smacked his arm. "Seriously?!"
He laughed, rolling onto his back, stretching his arms above his head. "You’re telling me you woke up sweating and crying because I had a wife in a dream?"
I huffed. "It felt real!"
"Mads," he chuckled, shaking his head. "If I had a wife, do you think I’d be here hugging you like this?"
I squinted at him. "Maybe she’s on vacation?"
He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "You’re insane."
I crossed my arms and turned away. "Whatever. Just know that if you ever get a wife, I’ll haunt you."
He pulled me back into his arms, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Noted. But you’re the only wife I’d ever want."
My breath hitched, but before I could react, he pressed a kiss to my temple.
"Now, let me sleep, you dramatic little gremlin."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the small smile forming on my lips as I close my eyes to get more sleep.
The morning light spilled through the hotel window, casting a warm glow over the room. I stretched, feeling the lingering comfort of our earlier conversation. He was already up, scrolling through his phone while I tried to shake off my sleepiness.
"Come on, let’s eat before you start hallucinating about my imaginary wife again," he teased, tossing a pillow at me.
I groaned, burying my face in the blanket. "I regret telling you."
He laughed, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up. "No take-backs, babe. This is gold."
I reluctantly followed him down to breakfast, already dreading whatever mockery he had prepared for me. Sure enough, as soon as we sat down, he rested his elbow on the table, smirking at me.
"So… did I cheat on my wife by sleeping next to you last night?"
I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."
"Or am I a polygamist? Should we schedule a meet-up with wife number one?"
I grabbed a sugar packet and dramatically threatened to throw it at him. "Say another word and you’ll be eating this."
He just grinned, completely unfazed.
When the waiter arrived to take our order, he leaned back casually, ordering for both of us like it was second nature. "She’ll have the usual—garlic rice, corned beef, and…" He paused, smirking at me before turning back to the waiter. "Oh, and make sure the egg is fried hard, well-done. No sunny side up."
I blinked. "Wait, what?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been giving me your sunny-side-up egg every morning. I know you don’t like it runny."
My lips parted, caught between surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name.
He knew.
Only a few days spent together, and he already paid attention to the little things.
"You—" I started, but he just shot me a smug look. "See? Unlike in your dreams, I actually care about my real-life woman."
I exhaled sharply, pretending to be unimpressed, but I was smiling. "You’re so full of yourself."
"And yet, you’re still here," he said, tapping his fingers on the table. "So what does that say about you?"
I picked up a spoon and pointed it at him. "That I’m tolerating you."
"That you’re obsessed with me," he corrected, looking way too pleased with himself.
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't deny the warmth spreading in my chest. Nightmare or not, this man had a way of making my heart race—both from irritation and something dangerously close to affection.
The playful banter continued, but my mind drifted elsewhere.
I stirred my coffee absentmindedly, watching the cream swirl into the dark liquid. The warmth from our conversation faded as a single thought crept into my mind—there was never an “us.”
We slept beside each other. We laughed. We shared meals. He knew the little things about me, like how I hated runny eggs and how I always stole the blanket at night.
But he never asked me to be his girlfriend.
There was no label. No certainty.
Just moments that felt real but had no name.
I felt my chest tighten as I gripped the handle of my cup a little too hard. I forced a small sip, hoping the bitterness of the coffee would drown out the bitterness in my heart.
"Still jealous?"
His voice was soft but teasing, the same amused tone he had been using all morning.
I looked up, meeting his eyes. He had noticed.
I willed myself to smile—small, effortless, fake. "No."
He studied my face for a moment, as if trying to read between the lines. Then, he smirked. "Good. My imaginary wife wouldn’t like that."
I let out a short laugh, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
It hurts, doesn’t it?
To be this close to someone and yet feel like you’re standing on different sides of an invisible wall. To have his attention, his affection—even his teasing—but never the certainty of being his.
I set my cup down carefully, pushing the thoughts away.
"Eat your food before it gets cold," I said lightly, forcing myself to focus on the plate in front of me.
If he noticed my unease again, he didn’t say anything.
And maybe that hurt the most.
The days passed quickly, each one bringing me closer to my exam. I had spent countless hours reviewing, memorizing, and solving problems until I knew the material like the back of my hand. The pressure should’ve made me anxious, but instead, I felt something else—confidence. I was ready.
One evening, I was deep into my notes when he plopped down beside me, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"Still studying?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
"Mhm," I hummed, eyes still scanning the page.
"Okay, let’s see if you actually know your stuff," he challenged, a teasing grin forming on his lips. "What’s the second law of thermodynamics?"
Without missing a beat, I answered, "It states that the total entropy of an isolated system can never decrease over time. It will either increase or remain constant."
He blinked. "Damn. Alright, next one—what’s the powerhouse of the cell?"
I rolled my eyes. "Mitochondria. Come on, ask something harder."
He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. "Fine. How do you calculate velocity?"
"Velocity is displacement over time," I replied effortlessly.
He stared at me for a second, then leaned back with a dramatic sigh. "Gosh, you’re brilliant."
I burst out laughing and playfully flipped my hair. "Of course, I am. I was a valedictorian, after all."
His head snapped toward me. "Wait, really?"
"Yep." I grinned, setting my notebook aside. "I was a valedictorian in elementary, junior high, and senior high."
His brows shot up. "Damn, that’s impressive."
"Mmm, I did fall short of getting a Latin honor in college, though," I admitted, shrugging. "But I was a consistent dean’s lister and even received a Presidential Academic Award."
For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips.
"So basically, you’re a genius?"
I laughed. "I wouldn’t say genius… just a little academically gifted."
He shook his head in disbelief. "And here I was, thinking you were just cute and freaking sexy.”
I raised an eyebrow. "Just cute?"
"Well," he corrected himself, wrapping an arm around my waist, "Cute, sexy and brilliant. Deadly combo."
I chuckled, nudging him playfully. "Now, if you’re done being amazed, can I get back to studying?"
"Fine, fine," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "But don’t blame me if I keep showing off my valedictorian girlfriend to everyone."
I froze.
Girlfriend?
But before I could even react, he had already grabbed my notebook and flipped through the pages like nothing had happened.
And just like that, he left me questioning if it was just a slip of the tongue… or something more.
I tried to focus on my notes, but his words lingered in my mind like an echo I couldn’t ignore.
"My valedictorian girlfriend."
Did he mean it? Was it just a slip of the tongue? Or was it one of his playful remarks that I shouldn’t take seriously?
Different questions filled my mind, each one leading to another.
What if he didn’t mean it that way?
What if he was just joking?
What if I was just overthinking again?
I glanced at him, watching as he lazily scrolled through his phone, completely unbothered. Meanwhile, I was drowning in my own thoughts.
What if I asked him?
What if I confronted him about us?
What if I ruined whatever this is by wanting more?
I shook my head, forcing myself to push the thoughts away.
No. I wouldn’t go down this road.
Not tonight. Not when I had more important things to focus on.
I took a deep breath, picked up my pen, and turned back to my notes.
But no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, my mind refused to let it go.
My thoughts spiraled endlessly, tangled in a web of questions I had no answers to. I was on the verge of snapping myself out of it when—
"Baby."
I froze.
My head whipped toward him so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. My eyes widened in pure shock as I stared at him, waiting for some kind of explanation.
Did I hear that right?
"What?" I blurted out, my voice coming out higher than I intended.
He glanced up from his phone, completely unfazed. "What?" he repeated, as if he had no idea what just happened.
"What did you just call me?"
Now, he smirked. That smug, knowing smirk that made my heart race and my irritation spike at the same time.
- Writer
