For the first time in years, I woke up before Ishaani.
Usually, she was always awake before me. The smell of coffee drifting through the apartment, soft music humming from the kitchen, the faint sound of utensils clinking together, it had become such a normal part of my life that I never truly noticed it until now.
But this morning, the apartment was silent.
I frowned slightly as I sat up against the headboard, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The other side of the bed was empty, but the bathroom light was off too.
Weird.
I got out of bed and walked toward the kitchen only to stop midway through the hallway.
Ishaani stood near the stove staring blankly at the pan in front of her while smoke slowly curled upward toward the exhaust fan.
"Ishaani."
No response.
"Ishaani."
She startled violently, blinking at me as though she had forgotten where she was.
"Oh shit."
She quickly switched off the stove and coughed lightly while waving the smoke away with her hand.
"What happened?" I asked, walking closer.
"Nothing," she murmured too quickly. "I just zoned out."
I looked down at the burnt dosas in the pan.
"You hate wasting food."
Normally, she would've laughed dramatically and blamed me for distracting her. But today she only stared down at the counter quietly while reaching for another bowl of batter.
Something was wrong.
Not anger.
Not irritation.
Something else.
"You okay?" I asked carefully.
"Yeah."
Lie.
I leaned against the kitchen counter silently watching her remake breakfast.
Her movements felt slower today. Distracted.
She added salt twice into the chutney before realizing it herself. Then she spent nearly a whole minute searching for the coffee powder only to realize it was right in front of her.
And the worst part?
She didn't even notice she was doing it.
"You're thinking too loudly," I finally muttered.
That earned me the faintest smile.
A small one.
Barely there.
"You say weird things sometimes," she murmured softly.
At least she spoke.
I watched her place food onto our plates before sitting opposite me at the dining table.
Usually breakfast with Ishaani was noisy.
She talked about:
her office,
Abinaya's latest relationship drama,
random Instagram reels,
strange clients,
new recipes she wanted to try,
or some weird philosophical thought she'd had at two in the morning.
But today?
Silence.
And I hated it.
My eyes remained fixed on her while she absentmindedly pushed food around her plate without actually eating.
YOU ARE READING
His Burden, His Blessing
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