Silent Eyes

25, Another Dilemma

Andreas held Monica by the waist as they approached their friends, Irene and Emil, for their double date. They sat down with smiles on their faces. Monica immediately noticed Irene's stunning jade green dress and couldn't contain her excitement. "Girl, that dress looks amazing on you!" she squealed. Irene blushed and awkwardly chuckled in response. "Thanks, I couldn't decide between black or green." Monica shook her head and sat up straight. "No, green is absolutely perfect for you. It complements your eyes!"

The women engaged in lively conversation while the men observed. A waitress soon arrived at their table. However, Monica noticed that the waitress was acting strangely towards Emil. She spoke in a sultry manner, leaned over to expose her cleavage, and smirked at him. To Monica's annoyance, Emil seemed to be playing along with the flirtation.

Monica nudged Irene and whispered, "What the hell is he doing? Doesn't he see you right here!" she hissed. Irene, with her gaze downcast, remained silent. It pained Monica to see her friend feeling upset, so she met the gaze of the waitress, glaring at her. "Can we have a different server, please?" she demanded. The woman appeared taken aback and blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Emil, confused by the situation, awkwardly laughed. "Monica, why would we need a new waitress?" he asked. But Monica's dark eyes locked onto his, and she turned back to the woman. "Get us a new server now," she asserted. "I don't want to see your face. Go." With that, Monica flicked her hand dismissively, and the woman left, allowing Irene to breathe a sigh of relief. Quietly, Irene touched Monica's hand, silently expressing her gratitude.

"Wow," Andreas exclaimed, breaking the silence. Everyone turned their attention to him, remembering he was present at the table. Andreas looked surprised and leaned into his hands, attempting to conceal his smile. "I've never seen that side of you, Monica." Monica smiled, laughing it off, but deep down, she was serious. She met Emil's gaze as she chuckled. "Well, I don't appreciate employees behaving inappropriately with customers."

It wasn't her place to interfere, but Monica couldn't stand seeing Emil mistreating Irene. Irene was a kind-hearted person, gentle and beautiful with her cascading black hair. She possessed intelligence and spoke with a soft voice. Anyone who mistreated her didn't deserve an ounce of respect in Monica's mind. While she smiled and appeared laidback, her eyes conveyed a clear message: "If I catch you doing it again, you're in trouble."

Eventually, they were assigned a new server, this time a man. Emil seemed disinterested in engaging with him, slouching back in his seat. Everyone placed their orders, and soon, steaming plates of delicious pasta were placed in front of them. Monica's mouth watered as she eagerly grabbed her fork, stabbed the noodles, and brought them to her mouth. She moaned in delight and then wiped her lips. "This is so good," Monica exclaimed.

Lately, she had been feeling incredibly hungry. She would snack whenever she could, although Monica was conscious of her weight. Andreas reassured her that she was fine and didn't mind if she gained a little. Despite his loving words, Monica was afraid of gaining weight and was trying to maintain a diet. However, this Penne Dish presented a rare opportunity for her to indulge and let loose.

Monica ate, relishing in her friend's company until suddenly, she felt something hit her. Her stomach churned, and she started feeling sick. Touching her belly, Monica closed her eyes while Irene placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Girl," Irene softly said. "Are you alright?" Monica tried to suppress the nauseous feeling in her gut, but it wouldn't go away, and she lifted her hand to her mouth. "Excuse me."

Without saying another word, Monica stood up, still clutching her stomach, and rushed to the bathroom. She crashed into the bathroom and vomited uncontrollably into the toilet. Hunched over, she coughed with tears of exhaustion in her eyes, wondering if she had eaten something bad again.

Andreas entered the bathroom, propping the door open, and seeing Monica on the floor vomiting left him worried. He closed the door behind him and asked, "Baby, what's wrong?" Crouching down, he held her hair back and massaged her shoulders, feeling helpless in the moment. He wanted to do more, but all he could do was be there for her.

After emptying her stomach, Monica felt frustrated. She began to cry, trying to figure out why she was getting sick again and feeling helpless in the face of this recurring problem. Meanwhile, Andreas rubbed her back, humming to soothe her.

Once she calmed down a bit, Monica sniffed and said, "We need to go through the refrigerator and see if anything has gone bad." But Andreas shook his head, convinced that something else might be wrong. He said, "No, my queen. I think there is something physically wrong with you, and we need to visit the doctor."

Monica grimaced at his concern, trying to brush it off. "You're overreacting," she said. "I'm not dying, Andreas. Just a little sick, that's all." She swatted him away while getting up, but the sick feeling still had her trapped, and she had to rush over to the sink to catch her breath.

Clearly scared of vomiting again, Monica leaned against the sink, and Andreas tiredly sighed. He stood behind her, rubbing her bare arms and pressing a light kiss to her shoulder. "Monica, I'm just worried," he admitted. "You haven't been feeling well for quite some time, and though you try to hide it, I notice."

Once again, Monica tried to play off his words, but he was right. She hadn't been feeling well, experiencing bouts of vomiting, and trying to convince herself it was just something she ate. Andreas had grown increasingly concerned, and she started lying, saying she was fine when she felt terrible on the inside.

In silence, Monica turned on the sink and splashed her face with fresh water. She grabbed paper towels to wipe her face clean. "Relax," she sighed, facing Andreas. Holding his hands in her own, she gently squeezed them. "I'm okay, it's just a little bug. It will pass, and I'll be fine like I was never sick," she smiled. But Andreas couldn't return the smile, and Monica's shoulders sank with weariness. She realized there was no point in trying to change his mind; he was going to have the final word no matter what.

Andreas held Monica's face, his hands gently but firmly grasping her cheeks as he looked into her eyes with determination. He wanted to kiss her, to express his love and comfort, but considering the recent vomiting, he knew it wouldn't be sanitary. Instead, he spoke in an authoritative tone, making his intentions clear.

"Monica, whether you like it or not, we're going to the doctor's tomorrow," he asserted. "I don't want to hear any more excuses." As she attempted to respond, he applied a gentle pressure, ensuring her mouth remained closed. "I'm serious," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "I'm your husband, and I'm going to take care of you."

Monica couldn't deny the force behind Andreas' words, even though they annoyed her. Deep down, she knew he was only expressing his genuine concern. After all, she had been feeling sick for an entire week, and if their roles were reversed, she would undoubtedly be worried about him as well. Reluctantly, she broke away from his grasp and let out a sigh.

"Okay."