•AN OBLIVIOUS ONE•

FARID ✨

Dinner time rolled around, and I made my way downstairs, my stomach growling in hunger. After the good time I’d had with Amaya, I was more than ready to refuel. It had been a fun afternoon, one I hadn’t had in a while. There was something satisfying about being in control, about having things go the way I wanted them to.

But as I entered the dining room, I was surprised by what I saw. Islam was already seated at the table, eating comfortably, as if nothing in the world was bothering her. Not only that, but she seemed unusually calm. I expected her to be locked away in her room like usual, but here she was, sitting casually like she actually belonged here.

I raised an eyebrow, watching her for a moment before I made my way to my seat. There was no acknowledgment from her, no sign that she even cared I was there. She looked straight ahead, taking slow, deliberate bites, her expression indifferent. If anything, she acted like I was the one who didn’t exist.

I couldn’t quite place how I felt about that. On one hand, it was a relief to not deal with her constant presence. On the other, the nonchalant way she was carrying herself, as if I wasn’t worth a single glance, was unsettling. I shrugged it off and started eating, telling myself it didn’t matter. But something gnawed at me.

She remained indifferent, finishing her meal with the same unbothered attitude, and when she was done, she stood, picked up her plates, and quietly walked to the kitchen to drop them off. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering what was going through her head. But again, I dismissed the thought.

When she returned to the table, she didn’t walk off like I expected her to. Instead, she sat back down, right where she had been before. Then, without any warning, she looked directly at me. Her gaze was sharp, unwavering, but her face was emotionless.

"I want to have a conversation with you when you’re done," she said flatly, her tone leaving no room for debate.

I froze mid-bite, my fork hovering in the air as I processed her words.

What now?

I thought, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. What shit does she want to start again this night?

I didn’t respond immediately, choosing to focus on my food. But her words lingered in the back of my mind. The calm, unshaken way she’d said it—it wasn’t her usual timid self. She didn’t sound like the woman I’d become used to ignoring.

I continued eating, but now I was restless. What exactly did she want to talk about? And why did she look so damn sure of herself?

I finished my meal, barely paying attention to anything except the lingering satisfaction of the food. Islam stood up to clear the plates, as if everything was normal, as if we hadn't just had one of the most awkwardly silent meals in our so-called marriage. I pushed my chair back, ready to head upstairs and avoid whatever nonsense she wanted to talk about.

As I started walking out of the dining room, her voice stopped me in my tracks.

"I said I want to have a conversation with you, and I was serious about it."

I turned slowly, irritation flickering in my chest. Who did she think she was? "Who do you think you are?" I asked, my voice sharp, expecting her to back down like she usually did.

But instead of retreating, she folded her arms under her chest, standing her ground. Her eyes were calm but determined, and her voice remained steady as she spoke again. "Your wife," she said, her tone unwavering, her gaze locked onto mine.

I blinked, caught off guard.

Wife??

The word echoed in my head, and for the first time in a long while, I was genuinely surprised. There was something different about her tonight. She wasn’t backing down, wasn’t retreating into her usual timid shell. She was standing tall, confident, and I could see it in the way she held herself—like she wasn’t afraid of me anymore.

My irritation spiked, but beneath that, I felt a flicker of curiosity. I had never seen this side of her, and part of me wanted to see how far she would go. Did she really think she could stand up to me now?

"Since when did you grow a backbone?" I scoffed, folding my arms, waiting for her to falter.

But she didn’t flinch. "Since I realized that I’m more than just a shadow in this house," she replied coolly.

That answer hit me differently, and I felt the tension between us grow thicker. For the first time, it seemed like she wasn’t afraid to push back, and I wasn’t sure if that made me angry or intrigued.