TRIGGER WARNING : HINTS OF SEXUAL ABUSE
I wake up to the smell of something delicious wafting through the air ,warm, comforting, rich. My stomach grumbles in protest, and I groggily rub my eyes as I check the time.
7:00 PM.
God, I've been asleep for two hours? I stretch, stiff from staying curled up in bed. Guess I was more exhausted than I thought. Emotionally, physically... just everything.
I look around the room, properly taking it in for the first time. It's beautiful. A little too grey for my liking, but the aesthetic is clean, sleek, and calm. Whoever designed it had an eye for detail everything from the velvet throw pillows to the sleek bookshelves screams understated luxury.
I unplug my phone, toss my hair up into a lazy bun, and pad barefoot toward the source of the heavenly aroma. I follow the scent into the kitchen and stop short.
He's standing there, his back turned, shirt sleeves rolled up, flipping something on a pan like he does it every day. Confident. Effortless.
Handsome and he can cook?
Bhagwan bachale mujhe.
( god save me )
Sensing my presence, he turns around, flashing a smile so genuine it makes something flutter in my stomach.
"You're awake" he says smiling as if he has been waiting for me to wake up
God. that smile makes me feel butterflies in my stomach
"Do you need any help?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
He waves a hand. "Oh no, I'm almost done. You just relax."
I look around his house while he turns back to the stove. It's stunning—tastefully decorated, masculine but elegant. Minimalist. Expensive.
"You have a wonderful house, Mr. Rodriguez."
He chuckles softly. "Thank you. But you don't need to call me Mr. Rodriguez. We are only 2 years apart ."
I freeze.
Crap.
I forgot his name. Is it mannerless to forget the name of your host who's doing such a good job at being just that ? I mean I only met him twice in my life , once when I was too occupied by the news that my brother dropped on me and then later today when I was pratically about sleep on the floor .
"Uhmm... I actually forgot your name." I mumble.
He stops what he's doing and looks at me, blinking once. Then twice. His expression unreadable.
"Mr. Rodriguez?" I prompt nervously.
"Hmm? Oh. No worries," he says finally, recovering with a smile. "My name is Noah. Don't forget it this time."
I give him a sheepish smile, relieved.
Suddenly, I feel something cold and wet nuzzle against my leg. I jump and look down to see a tiny furball sniffing me eagerly.
"Oh my freaking god!" I squeal as I see a husky sniffing me
Noah rushes over. "Oh no, I had him locked in my room! I didn't know you were afraid of dogs"
"Afraid?" I interrupt. "Not at all. I adore dogs! I've always wanted one. And huskies are my favorite breed!"
His eyes light up. "Really?!"
I nod excitedly as he scoops the pup into his arms.
"Do you wanna hold him?"
I hesitate. I love dogs, but I've never actually had one. Still, he looks so soft, so innocent, and so curious.
"Don't worry," Noah says gently. "He won't bite."
"Okay, fine," I say and carefully take the puppy from his hands. The fur is soft and silky. He smells like clean laundry and mischief.
"How old is he? What's his name? And-"
"Whoa, slow down, sunshine," he says, laughing.
I freeze.
Sunshine.
That word slips from his lips like it belongs to me.
"Your first question?"
"How old is he?"
"Two months."
"What's his name?"
He rubs the back of his neck. "Honestly, I got him a few days back and... haven't decided yet. Hey, why don't you name him?"
"Really?"
"Sure. Why not?"
I look down at the husky in my arms. His eyes are piercingly blue, like frost and glaciers and secrets. He licks my chin.
"Blue," I say softly. "I want to name him Blue."
I glance up, half-expecting him to laugh or roll his eyes.
But instead, I find him smirking.
"You didn't like it?" I ask quickly.
"No," he says, clearing his throat. "I loved it. It's lovely."
"Thank you," I whisper, smiling down at Blue.
"Alright, dinner's ready. You hungry?"
"Starving."
He gestures to the dining table. "Go on, sit. I'll bring everything over."
────୨ৎ────
dinner is incredible.
Warm, spiced, with a hint of something tangy and familiar. I'm halfway through my plate before I realize how hungry I really was.
"This is amazing," I say between bites. "It's my first time trying it."
"Thanks," Noah replies, drying his hands after washing the dishes. "It's my grandma's recipe. My dad had to move around a lot for business, so every time we moved into a new house, this was the first meal she'd make. Arroz rojo."
"What does that mean?"
"Red rice. It's a Mexican side dish, but I like eating it as a meal."
"Well, it's delicious. But tomorrow" I stop abruptly as I point a fork at him, mock-serious. "I'm cooking dinner."
He raises both hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say, sunshine."
There it is again. That nickname.
The way he says it makes my heart ache and flutter all at once.
"Alright then," he says after clearing the table. "You must be tired. I have a meeting early, so I'm gonna crash. Feel free to do whatever you want. Watch TV, play with Blue, raid the fridge—my house is your house."
I yawn, suddenly feeling the weight of the day again. "No, I'm sleepy too."
He gives me a small nod and a tired smile. "Goodnight, sunshine."
"Goodnight, Noah."
────୨ৎ────
"No—please stop! Leave me!!"
I'm crying, thrashing against someone twice my size.
"HELP! SOMEONE HELP—"
"Relax, darling. It won't hurt."
I can feel his fingers on the waistband of my jeans. The panic. The fear. The helplessness.
I wake up with a scream lodged in my throat, my breath coming in rapid bursts.
My heart is pounding so violently it feels like it might crack my ribs.
The lamp on the nightstand has crashed to the floor. I must've knocked it off in my sleep.
Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.
I whisper it again and again like a prayer.
But it wasn't just a nightmare.
It was a memory.
A scar that never fully healed.
My body curls into itself as I try to quiet the sobs wracking my chest. The air feels suffocating, thick with the past. My fingers dig into the bedsheet like it's the only thing tethering me to reality.
The worst part?
I've gotten good at hiding it. At smiling. At laughing. At pretending.
But tonight, in this unfamiliar house, with nothing but silence and shadows, the truth is too loud to ignore.
I pull the blanket tighter around myself, hoping it'll shield me from the ghosts I carry.
But no matter how hard I try...
Some memories don't let go.
And some nights... you just have to survive.
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