"Fuck, fuck—what the fuck of a nightmare was that?" I shot up from the bed like I was being yanked from the grave.
My chest heaved, sweat pouring down my skin as if I'd just run through hellfire. My sheets were tangled around my legs, soaked and sticking to me like a second skin. My throat burned, raw from a scream I didn't remember letting out. My fists were clenched so tight my nails had dug little red crescents into my palms.
I looked around, eyes wide open.
I was neither onthe rooftop, nor where there any red sky, no worm-things, no bloodbath, just me in my room on my fucking bed. My shitty one-bedroom apartment with flickering yellow light coming through the blinds, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, scattered Ski-FI comics on the ground.
"What the holy shit was that?" I muttered, dragging both hands down my face, trying to ground myself in reality. My hands were shaking while it coursed through my cheeks. Right on the bed, I was seated upright, my body shivering in fear.
I turned to my right, to the peacefully sleeping woman in the white blanket. Her hair clung to her forehead, strands curled from sweat or maybe the heat of the room. For a second, I couldn't move. I just stared.
"Elysia…" I whispered, breath caught in my throat.
My hands moved before I could think. I threw the blanket away from her face, heart jackhammering in my chest. There she was. Still. Quiet. So goddamn still I thought—
I leaned closer and gently slid a trembling finger under her nose.
And then I felt it.
Air.
A soft, warm exhale against my skin.
She was breathing.
Alive.
My lungs released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding as I collapsed backward onto the bed, the tension in my limbs giving way all at once. I stared at the ceiling, one arm slung over my eyes, the other splayed across my chest like it was keeping my heart from jumping out.
"It's just a dream, Arthur," I muttered under my breath. "Just a dream…" I fell back into bed, my hand running through my hair. I could hear my heartbeat from where I laid, so loud and thumping harder.
I exhaled sharply, holding my chest as if my heart was going to jump out and then, my voice thinned out. "My inhaler...My inhaler..." I squeaked, the words barely pushing past my throat.
Panic surged in quickly as my lungs were folding in on themselves. From breathing normally, I began to wheeze, throat tightening in, breath shortening to barely a gasp. I reached for the nightstand, grabbing onto the edge. My fingers scrabbled along its rim, knocked over the whiskey bottle and it clattered to the ground with a hollow thud.
'Where the fuck was it?' My breath came in as pants while my struggle intensified. I yanked the drawer open, my hand nearly coming off the handle. I could feel my vision blur at the edges—black creeping in, the kind of dark that makes the world feel like it's shrinking.
My hand trembled over pill bottles, receipts, a broken lighter but no inhaler. Then I slipped from the bed, my knees hit the ground first, sharp pain shooting through me, but it didn't matter. I opened my mouth wide, gulping for oxygen like one who was drowning.
Colors drained from my face—I could feel it, the blood retreating and going still. My fingers numbed.
This was it, the world was truly coming to an end.
The dream, the premonition was right! I was definitely dying and why? I couldn't reach my inhaler what a lame excuse!
"What a weakling," Elysia said flatly, her face scrunched up in a frown still sleepy. "Take your stupid inhaler and don't ever disturb my sleep again." I couldn't even lift my head to meet her gaze before thwack—something hit my forehead. It bounced to the floor in front of me.
My inhaler.
I didn't wait. I snatched it, fingers fumbling with the cap. I jammed the thing into my mouth, pressed the canister down, and took a ragged inhale into my lungs.
Fssssssht—
I fell back on the carpeted ground, my body crumpling against the cold floor as I took another hit, then another, until the airflow slowly began to return.
I gasped. Then coughed. Then gasped again.I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, eyes blurry but stinging as I looked over to the bed.
Elysia had already turned her back to me, blanket tucked under her chin like nothing had happened. I lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling and subsequently to my unbothered wide on the bed.
Not like she cared if I choked or suffocated to death...It was even to her benefit at least she could run off to her loved whom she usually cheated on me with on her business trips. T wasn't even new again to him and wasn't a surprise that he had found a wedding ring on her finger when he never had money to afford one to give her.
But I didn't need her to confess.
It had been clear long ago that her forever even while being with a pauper oath vanished.
Last month, when she'd fallen asleep on the couch, completely knocked out after a flight, her hand slipped from under the blanket—soft fingers curled against her chest. And there it was, a twelve karat gold ring on her fourth finger.
Definitely not the one I gave her.
Not the twisted silver band I had scrimped and saved three months' worth of late shifts and ramen dinners to afford. This one was different and luxurious. I didn't bother to ask who the new man was.
I never brought it up. What was the point? The moment I saw that ring, I knew I'd lost. Hell, I don't even know if I'd ever won her in the first place. The inhaler was still clenched in my fist, my knuckles pale around it. I looked at Elysia—her back turned as always pretending I didn't exist.
I scoffed bitterly, dragging myself up from the ground. I grabbed the shirt from the floor, yanked it over my head, and stepped quietly toward the door, lips curling downward into a smugged, unappreciative smile.
I took one last glance at the sleeping figure bundled under the white blanket, then opened the door and slipped out. I stepped into the hallway, confused why the lights were still on by 6am.
I didn't bother turning off the lights as I descended the stairs, one hand sliding down the railing, the other still gripping the inhaler. But then I paused—my foot froze on the last step.
I tilted my head slowly, eyes narrowing.
From where he stood, I had a clear view of the living room. And seated there, legs casually crossed on my favorite leather couch, was a man in a tailored navy suit and sitting beside him—radiant as ever in her silk robe, sipping morning tea from a wine glass was none other than his mother-in-law.
I didn't need any explanation of who the man was and quickly guessed it. As if on cue, both heads turned simultaneously to me but I didn't blink and pretended I couldn't see them.
The man obviously had questions about my presence but I wasn't in the mood to entertain such and increased my speed into the kitchen. Half way inside, I heard her call.
"Arthur, you don't know how to greet your boss's fiancee, huh? Have you gone disrespect or too comfortable in a house you don't own?" Clarissa's voice, his mother in law shot so loud that he couldn't ignore it.
I didn't flinch, not at first but I did pause—right there with my hand half on the fridge handle, my back to them. The words hit harder than the wheezing ever did. She let out a hiss, turning to the suited man beside her. "I apologize deeply for his misconduct, Mr. D'Aragon. You know, all these servants nowadays are growing balls when they shouldn't have one."
The insult didn't sting anymore obviously when I had grown thick to it. Even being called a servant was better than the insult he had gotten in two years of being married into this family.
"I'd rather hear an apology from his mouth,"
I turned slowly, inhaler still in hand, meeting his gaze head-on. He looked exactly like the kind of man Elysia would trade me in for. Mid-40s, clean-cut jaw, silk hair groomed to perfection, and not a single wrinkle on his $2,000 suit. He radiated power, wealth and status. Everything I wasn't and Elysia wanted.
Clarissa's eyes burned holes into me. Her lips thinned with suppressed rage. "Arthur, come and tender your sincere apology to Mr. D'Aragon this instant… or I will show you who I am."
I looked past Clarissa to Elysia's fiancé, the man sitting like a king on my favorite chair, sipping morning tea with the same lips that probably kissed the woman who used to say she loved me. I smiled and then, looked back at Clarissa .
"I bet mother in law didn't tell you Elysia was married. You are eating out of my garbage, Mister."