The Side Effects of Marriage

Chapter 24

Hayden's injuries brought everything to a stumbling, jolting, jerky halt.

Well, maybe not everything.

His mother's wedding was postponed by several months; she remained with him and Layla, while Haoran rented a nearby apartment. He couldn't decide if her presence was more a vice grip on his throat and mind, or a comforting presence that lulled him into believing the falsehood that he could still be safe. That he could still be saved.

While his body recovered, his mind only grew all the more restless, pacing the four walls of his skull without anywhere to go or anything to do. Layla's attentions and affections were just as comforting as his mother's, yet far more volatile. She seemed at times to feel–not quite guilty, not responsible for his injuries–no, she looked... frightened of him.

Frightened of the scars forming on his skin. Of the stripes of marred flesh on his chest. Of the blistering skin and reddened marks.

He didn't know if she was scared of him, or of his wounds. But he was determined to find out why.

Layla worked less now, spending less time at the office. Their neighbour, Amy Tang, often visited him, bringing concoctions that could've been miracle health cures prescribed by a quack or further poisons. She brought cookies that were gluten-, dairy-, sugar-, nut-free and void of any human enjoyment; casseroles lacking anything resembling plants or animals; and many more dishes that were inedible by everyone except Layla, who picked at them with a mindless gaze until she glanced down, surprised that the dish was empty. Despite her pregnancy, she often looked wan, tired, lacking the supposed glow that characterized pregnant women.

Hayden had taken to sleeping in the guest bedroom to keep from disturbing her sleep, and because much of his medical equipment was set up there; gauzes and creams and ointments cluttered the nightstand.

He called Carly once. She'd picked up the phone and said, quite simply, "You shouldn't talk to me."

Then, she'd hung up, her number registering as not in service whenever he tried to call her again. Forbidden from driving and under either his wife's or his mother's watchful stare at all times, he found no way of contacting her. He resigned himself to believing that she would be alright, and told himself that he had his own children to focus on. The twins.

Having little else to do, Hayden went to every ultrasound, listening raptly as the obstetrician moved the wand around his wife's every-expanding bump, showing the heartbeat of their twins as it filled the room. A steady drumbeat, the ticking of a clock, reminding him that every moment led him closer to healing. Closer to holding new life in his arms.

At least, that was the trite stuff he told himself. In reality, he was spending many hours pretending to watch trashy TV or read ebooks on his iPad, when Hayden was actually occupying himself by researching everything there was to know about Vihaan Bakshi and Amy Tang. He didn't trust either of them. Especially a woman who cooked horrendous vegan food and ate it with a smile. That was a crime nearly unforgivable on its own, even if one were to ignore her other suspicious behaviour. The cameras and microphones, for one thing. When he wasn't taking apart his mind with suspicious paranoias, he was taking apart the house, looking for cameras and microphones.

One night when Amy was due to dine with them and his mother was out having dinner with Haoran in the city, Hayden found a microphone in one of the chandelier's crystals. He despised the chandelier, but it had been a purchase his mother suggested, foisting it on his and Layla's more austere, industrial decorating tastes a few months ago. Now he supposed she had been influenced by Amy, seeing it as a good hiding spot for a mic...