Impassive

6| Economics

"Your room is here. If you need anything, ask someone from the staff," her husband said before leaving. She briefly considered asking him if he would undo the buttons of her wedding dress since she couldn't reach the ones on her back herself.

AVA

I didn't know how long it had been since I left him. Days? Weeks? Time was becoming one big blur, like I was just wandering through someone else's life, playing a part I didn't understand. But when I checked the clock, I saw that it had only been ten minutes since I'd walked out of Matteo's office. Ten minutes of just... standing there, trying to figure out where I fit into any of this. The walls were bare. The air felt heavy. And I was still trying to understand how I got here. There was a vast, yawning emptiness where memories should've been. A chasm so deep, I didn't know if I'd ever climb out. Every day felt like I was meeting the world for the first time—every face a stranger, including Matteo's.

He said we were married.

I believed him, of course, because what else was I supposed to do? The ring on my finger was tangible enough. The way he said my name—soft and steady, like it had real meaning—felt real enough. Even the way his fingers brushed against mine occasionally, like he was trying to reach me... That part was real too. But inside, it all felt foreign. Like I was living someone else's life. The memories, the warmth, the emotions—none of them were there. Nothing to hold onto.

I glanced at him, sitting across from me, the same familiar look on his face: calm, unreadable, like he was always trying to decode me. Always trying to figure out what was going on inside my head. But he couldn't. And I couldn't explain it. Not even to myself.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. Cautious. Like I might break if he pushed too hard. I gave a nod and managed a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. It wasn't a real smile, not really. But it was the kind of thing you do when you want to make someone feel better, even though you don't know if you feel better yourself.

We sat there, the air thick with tension, like two strangers stuck in some awkward version of a marriage neither of us understood. It was a strange silence—so many unspoken things hanging between us. Things I couldn't put into words, things I didn't even know how to feel. I tried to come up with something to say, anything to make it less uncomfortable, but the words felt like they were stuck somewhere deep in my chest.

"So... what now?" I finally asked, trying to sound casual, like I wasn't drowning in confusion. But the question came out hollow, even to my own ears.

He paused, staring at me like I was some kind of puzzle he hadn't quite cracked. After a moment, he shrugged, the frown on his face deepening. "Wasn't it you who wanted to take a break? We talked about it. Spend some time together." He gave a little half-smile, like that was supposed to make everything okay.

It should've been fine. His words were fine. But they weren't. Nothing was fine. I could feel his hand brush mine as he shifted on the couch, but it felt... wrong. Like a gesture that should've meant something, but didn't. When his fingers brushed against my skin, I could feel the sensation—but it didn't spark anything. No warmth, no connection, no flicker of emotion. There should've been something there, shouldn't there? A kind of unspoken understanding. A tiny flicker that says this is your person. But it wasn't there.

I wasn't sure what was worse—the fact that I didn't feel anything, or the fact that I should've.

"Do you ever feel like... you're trapped in a life that isn't yours?" I asked. It was strange, the way the words tumbled out without any stutter. Like I was hearing myself say them, but it wasn't even really me speaking. It wasn't just the gaps in my memory. It was more than that. It was the feeling of living a life that wasn't mine. A life I didn't recognize. A life I didn't want.