We stood at the double vanity. The mirror was slightly fogged from the humidity of the house.
I grabbed my blue toothbrush. She grabbed her pink one.
I squeezed the toothpaste onto her brush.
"Service," I said.
"Thank you," she mumbled, taking the brush.
We brushed in companionable silence.
Brush, spit, rinse.
I watched her in the mirror. She was leaning over the sink, scrubbing diligently.
I spat and rinsed. I grabbed a towel and wiped my mouth.
"So," I said, leaning my hip against the counter and crossing my arms. "Since we are officially embracing the lazy lifestyle today... shower schedule?"
Wanda spat and rinsed. She stood up, wiping her face. She looked at me in the mirror.
"I am going first," she declared. "My hair is... a situation."
"It's a majestic situation," I argued. "But fair enough. Ladies first."
I paused. I looked at the audience, then back at her.
"Unless..." I started, a mischievous glint in my eye. "You need help? Back scrubbing is a delicate art. Hard to reach places. It requires a professional."
Wanda turned to face me. She leaned back against the counter, mimicking my pose. Her eyes narrowed playfully.
"A professional?" she asked. "Do you have a certification for 'Back Scrubbing'?"
"I have a medical degree," I pointed out. "I know anatomy. I know exactly where the stress accumulates."
She tapped her chin, pretending to consider it.
"It is a generous offer," she mused. "Very... selfless."
"I am a giver," I said solemnly.
She stepped closer. She reached out and flicked the collar of my t-shirt.
"I will consider it," she whispered.
Then, she turned and walked out of the bathroom.
"Consideration is good!" I called after her. "I'll take a 'maybe'!"
I stood there, grinning like an idiot at my reflection.
"She didn't say no," I told the mirror. "Progress."
I showered in my own bathroom (alone, tragically, but hopeful). I dressed in the clothes she had bought… the dark jeans and the forest green flannel.
I went downstairs.
The kitchen was quiet. Wanda was still upstairs.
"Okay," I said, opening the fridge. "Lunch. We need something substantial. Something that says 'I forgive you for making us sleep until noon'."
I pulled out the chicken breasts I had bought.
"Chicken Piccata," I decided. "It's bright. It's zesty. And it fits the theme."
I started prepping. I pounded the chicken flat. I dredged it in flour.
Sizzle.
The smell of butter and browning meat filled the kitchen.
I squeezed the lemons.
"For the Queen," I muttered, whisking the juice into the pan.
I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Wanda walked in. She was wearing leggings and a cream sweater again. Her hair was falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She looked clean and soft.
"It smells..." she inhaled. "Tart."
"Chicken Piccata," I announced, plating the pasta. "Your favorite fruit is the star of the show."
She sat at the island. "You cooked?"
"Someone had to," I said, sliding the plate toward her. "You were busy 'considering' my offers."
She laughed, picking up a fork. "I am still considering it."
We ate.
"This is good," she said, twirling the pasta. "The lemon... it wakes you up."
"That's the idea. We can't be sleepy all day. We have... sofa sitting to do."
"Ah yes," she nodded seriously. "The strenuous activity of sitting."
After lunch, we moved to the living room. I sat on the left side of the L shaped couch. Wanda sat on the right.
We were reading. Or, pretending to read. I was scrolling through a medical journal on my tablet, but mostly I was watching her read a physical book from the library pile.
Ding dong.
We both looked up.
"Popular house," I noted.
"I will get it," Wanda said, marking her page.
She stood up and walked to the door. I followed, leaning against the archway of the living room.
She opened the door.
Standing there was Dottie.
"Hi!" Dottie said, holding a casserole dish covered in foil. "Sorry to intrude!"
"Hello, Dottie," Wanda said warmly. "It is not an intrusion."
"I just wanted to drop this off," Dottie said, handing the heavy dish to Wanda. "Tuna Casserole. It's a thank you. For yesterday."
"Oh," Wanda said, taking the dish. "You did not have to… "
"Nonsense!" Dottie waved her hand. "The whole street is buzzing. You two are the talk of the town. 'The Doctor and the Witch'. It sounds like a fairy tale."
She leaned in, looking past Wanda at me.
"Hello, Aryan!" she waved.
"Hi, Dottie," I called back. "Thanks for the... tuna."
Dottie turned back to Wanda. Her expression turned conspiratorial.
"Listen," she said. "We're having a thing tonight. At Sarah's house. Just a small gathering. A toast to the heroes. We want you both to come."
Wanda hesitated. "Tonight?"
"Yes! 7 PM. Bring the husband!" Dottie winked at me.
Wanda froze.
Husband.
She looked at Dottie. She looked back at me.
I held my breath.
"We would love to come," Wanda said smoothly. "And I will bring him."
"Perfect!" Dottie clapped. "See you at seven!"
She marched down the driveway.
Wanda closed the door. She turned to me, still holding the casserole.
"Husband," I repeated, testing the word.
Wanda walked past me into the kitchen to put the dish away.
"It is... simpler," she said over her shoulder. "To let them think what they want."
"Simpler," I agreed, following her. "Right. Simpler."
I am currently doing a victory lap in my mind. She didn't deny it. She didn't correct her. I am practically engaged by neighborhood law.
We went back to the living room.
Wanda sat down next to me. Closer this time.
"So," she said. "We have plans."
"We do," I said. "Another party. You think we can handle the fame?"
"We handled a medical emergency in the mud yesterday," she murmured. "I think we can handle Sarah's hors d'oeuvres."
She picked up the book she was reading. She handed it to me.
"Finish it," she said.
"The story?"
"Yes. You stopped at the dance. What happens next?"
I took the book. The Shepherd and the Star.
"Okay," I said, opening it to the marked page.
I began to read.
"After the dance, the Shepherd took the Star to the mountain peak..."
I read for an hour.
She sat with her knees pulled up, her chin resting on them, her eyes fixed on my face. It was a loving gaze. It felt like a warm blanket draped over my shoulders.
I'd look up occasionally, catch her eye and smile. She'd smile back, a secret thing.
She's looking at me like I hung the moon, I thought. And the terrifying part is, I think she believes I did.
PS: Sorry guys for the late update. I was out of town because our department organized a rural medical outreach, so I had to go with my team to nearby villages to provide free health checkups and basic healthcare services. That's why I couldn't update on time. Thanks for your patience.