ALSphere Foundation
As I awaken, a soft breeze drifts through the open window, gently stirring the curtains. The early morning light seeps into the room, casting a warm golden glow over the furniture. Trudy lies peacefully beside me, her face content like a well-fed cat. A few chestnut strands of her hair have fallen across her cheek, and I lightly trace their path with my finger before brushing her smooth, bare shoulder. She lets out a soft, content murmur but remains lost in her dreams. I can almost see them— vibrant and vivid, filled with a mix of grandeur and simplicity, bustling with sound, yet wrapped in serene silence.
Her soft snores draw my attention to her sharp, aquiline nose, and the tiny mole perched at the tip of her septum. I remember how on our first date, I would steal glances at that mole— first with curiosity, then with admiration. Now whenever she’s upset with me, I cradle her face in my hands and plant a kiss right on it, and it never fails to make her smile.
Carefully propping myself up on my right forearm, I shift just enough to take in her full profile without disturbing her. Her brown eyelashes flutter lightly, but she remains asleep. From where I lie, I can see her delicate feet resting at the edge of the bed, her nimble toes adorned with crimson-red polish. I smile at the memory of the day she painted her nails— I was sitting across from her when she propped her feet on the table, playfully teasing me. On a whim, I took the applicator from her hand and painted her big toes myself, leaving uneven streaks that still linger. She had laughed, the sound bright and free, like a child being tickled.
That was the same day, crimson blood trickled from her forehead and stained the fabric of her yellow dress. It wasn’t my fault, though. She was chasing her dreams, diving headfirst into the world of theatre, her excitement palpable. Without telling me, she had accepted a role on Broadway, and while I claimed to be supportive, deep down I was only comfortable as long as her dreams stayed locked behind her eyelids.
When I told her to call her agent and refuse the part, she threatened to leave. No, that wasn’t an option. She packed her things, standing at the threshold, ready to walk away. That’s when I knew it had gone too far.
Now, I’m happy again because she’s here, lying beside me, her steady breath calming me. I can wind her soft hair around my fingers, trace the curve of her neck, and feel her warmth whenever I want. But something’s wrong. There’s a weight pressing down on me, tightening around my throat, suffocating like the hands I remember at her neck. The pulsing throb in my forehead matches the rhythm of that moment when her head hit the doorframe.
I gasp for air, panic tightening my chest. Is Trudy trying to kill me? Is this her way of seeking revenge— for the role I forbade her to take, for the dreams I crushed before they could soar? My eyes dart to her calm face beside me, peaceful and untroubled as if she carries no weight of this world. But then, in a heartbeat, her eyelids flutter, splitting open to reveal wide, hazel eyes— cold, empty, void of any love.
I lurch upright, a sudden chill racing down my spine. The bed beside me is empty.
Across the room, Trudy’s photograph on the dresser meets my gaze, her smile twisting into something sinister, as though mocking me from beyond the frame.
Dr. Sonika Sethi
