Meet my husband

Chapter 2

I stirred in the warmth of the soft bed, groaning as a dull ache spread through my body. "Ughhh... where am I?" My voice came out hoarse, as if I had been screaming for days, and my hand instinctively went to my temple, pressing against the sharp throb behind my eyes.

As I slowly opened my eyes, I was greeted by a strange contrast. The bed beneath me was soft—so soft, in fact, it felt as though I were lying on a cloud. But the room surrounding me felt entirely wrong. The walls were cold dull concrete, the air stale, and the dim light barely illuminated the small, unfamiliar space. My breath hitched in my chest. The unsettling reality began to seep into my bones as I took in the cold, stone walls.

This... this wasn't right. It was like a prison cell—familiar and terrifying. The bed might as well have been a cruel joke, offering comfort in the middle of a nightmare.

"Hello...?" I whispered, but the sound of my own voice only seemed to deepen the silence around me. My heart pounded as I sat up, the pain in my head intensifying with my movement. Was this real? Was I really here, or had it all been some kind of twisted dream?

It couldn't be, right?

I tried to shake off the doubt, but a sense of dread settled in my chest. The fleeting memory of what had happened before this moment was hazy, like a fog obscuring the truth. My mind raced, but the headache only worsened. Where was I? How did I get here?

I shifted my weight to the edge of the bed, struggling to focus as the room seemed to close in around me. My hand moved instinctively to the side of the bed, where I spotted a small card resting there, almost taunting me with its simplicity.

With shaky hands, I reached for it, the card feeling heavier than it should have. My fingers grazed the paper, and a cold chill ran through me as I turned it over. What was this? Who had left it?

I unfolded the note carefully, my hands trembling slightly as I read the familiar, yet foreign, handwriting. The words were simple, almost too casual, as though nothing had happened—like this was just a normal morning.

Hello Rin!

The letter began, and my chest tightened with a strange mix of confusion and longing. The warm, kind tone of Obito's words felt both comforting and foreign. How long had it been since I'd heard from him in such a gentle, caring way?

I hope you rested up well. Next to this note are some clothes I found! Just so you don't need to stay in your old ones.

My gaze flicked to the neatly folded clothes beside the note—men's clothing, no less. A small laugh escaped me, but it was hollow, almost bitter. I didn't even know when I'd last worn something clean, let alone had a choice in what I wore. Still, I felt a tiny flicker of warmth amidst the emptiness.

I do apologize that they are only men's clothes, but I couldn't find anything else.

I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the rising lump in my throat. How long had it been since anyone had taken care of me like this? The idea that Obito—Obito—was taking care of me, helping me, felt like a dream. Yet the sense of normalcy the note carried was surreal in this place, where nothing felt right, and everything was a reminder of the torment I'd endured.

The bathroom is the far right door and the towels are in the bottom right cabinet. Use as many as you need! There should be plenty!

I barely registered the directions, my mind too lost in the chaos of memories—the damp, cold cells where I was kept, the harsh conditions, the darkness that never let up. To think that someone wanted me to feel comfortable here was... disorienting.