Every Now And Then (On Revision)

3- I'm home

Why does it feel like someone is staring at me? I don't want to open my eyes yet. I know I slept on the couch, but it's a rarely visited corner of the house. Ignoring the feeling, I try to continue my sleep. A minute later, I feel someone stroking my hair. My eyes remain closed—I don't want to open them.

"You still sleep like a baby," she says.

I can't believe I'm hearing that voice again. I continue pretending to be asleep.

"I know you're already awake, baobei," she whispers before kissing my lips.

"Wakey, wakey. I cooked your favorite food. The others are also waiting for us. Come on, baby, wake up."

I hesitate. What if this is just another dream? What if, the moment I open my eyes, she'll disappear again? But I slowly open them and see her kneeling in front of me, staring at my face.

"Finally! Let's go?" She stands up and turns her back on me, heading toward the dining room. Before she gets too far, I blurt out, "Why are you here?"

She stops, turning to face me with the brightest trapezoid smile. My god, I've missed that smile. But I can't just forget the two whole years she left me alone.

"Isn't this our house? Am I not welcome in my own home?" she teases, still smiling. Her voice is like music—soothing, calming.

She extends her hand to help me up, but fear grips me. If I hold her hand, I might never let go. I might forget the pain she caused me. I bite my lip, still hesitant.

She leans down, grabbing my hair playfully, leveling her face with mine. "Come on now, let's get you to the table."

I reach for her hand. The moment my fingers brush against hers—

She vanishes.

I look around, heart pounding. This isn't my house. Where am I?

Then, I hear strumming. A guitar? I follow the sound down an empty hallway and peek into a room where she's sitting, playing her guitar.

She looks different this time, dressed in new clothes. I watch from afar until she notices me.

"What are you doing just standing there? Come here, I'll sing you a song."

Why does this feel familiar? Like it's happened before?

She strums her guitar, her gaze locked on mine. Her voice is so gentle, so tender—different from before. It feels like she's casting a spell, drawing me in, leaving me powerless.

When she finishes playing, I want to hug her. Slowly, I get up and embrace her. I know I shouldn't. I know I can't resist her. I hate that about myself. I hate how much I love her, even after everything.

"Let's go eat. I'm hungry. I'll cook for both of us," she says, smiling.

I frown. "Didn't you already cook? For everyone?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "Your memory is getting bad, Keni. It's only been two years, and you're acting like a grandma already."

She kisses my cheek and drags me to the kitchen. I watch her move effortlessly, preparing the meal. The aroma of her cooking fills the air, bringing back memories. It's been so long since I tasted food she made.

Minutes later, she sits across from me, sliding a plate toward me. "Here you go, princess. Eat well, my love. I made your favorite."

I still can't believe she's here. Cooking for me. Singing for me. I don't want this to end.

"Here, open wide. Ahh—" she coaxes playfully, holding up a bite of food with her chopsticks.

She's never done this before, not even on our anniversaries. It catches me off guard. I stare at the chopsticks, then back at her. Ten seconds pass in silence.

"The food is getting cold, you know?" she teases.

I finally take the bite. It tastes like home.

But something about all this feels... off.

She washes the dishes, then suddenly turns to me. "Can I paint you?"

I blink. "What?"

She's never painted people before—only landscapes that mesmerized her.

She sets up a canvas. I sit on the sofa, unsure of how to pose, despite being a well-known model since my second year of college. But she just stares, intensely studying me.

"You're really a piece of art," she murmurs, sketching. "Your curves are marvelous."

She keeps complimenting me, treating me so sweetly—it's unbelievable.

I want to ask her where she's been all this time, but before I can, her phone rings. She glances at the screen, then stands, excusing herself.

"I need to go. I'm sorry."

What? She's leaving me again?

"Why? We barely talked. It's not even been a full day since you came back, and now you're saying you have to leave again?"

Tears well up in my eyes. She puts on her coat.

"I'll be back. I promise."

Before she can reach the door, I grab her from behind, hugging her tightly. "Keni, let go," she says softly.

But I don't.

"Keni... KENI!"

I jolt awake.

Xiaotang is shaking me. "You were crying in your sleep. Are you okay?" she asks, concern in her voice.

I touch my cheeks—wet with tears. I hadn't even realized.

"I'm fine," I lie, wiping my face.

"Shaking made breakfast for everyone. You coming?"

I nod. "I'll wash my face first. Go ahead."

In the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror before splashing cold water onto my face.

Fuck. Dreaming of her is getting worse over time...