In Between Us || Zhanyi

Untitled Part 20

Oblivious or not Zhan, however, walked straight to the counter, ordering yet another cup of coffee. His head pounded relentlessly, a migraine making itself known. He grimaced slightly as he accepted his seventh cup of coffee for the day. The caffeine wasn't helping, but what else could he do? His head felt like it would split open any second, and yet, he had no time to rest. He had lined up classes to teach, meetings to attend, papers to grade, reports and evaluation to submit.

Without sparing a single glance to the canteen chatter, Zhan made his way towards his cabin. His mind was clouded, consumed by a constant dull ache that had been with him for days now. The sleepless nights, the unhealthy food, the erratic eating schedule—everything had spiraled out of control. Just a few days of chaos, and it felt like his personal life, his health, everything was unraveling at the seams. He was back on smoking, drowning in coffee, and running on fumes. 

With the steaming cup of coffee in hand, Zhan entered in his cabin, he expected to find the familiar sight of his cluttered desk. But instead, something caught his eye—a small box, a pouch, and a letter neatly placed on his desk.

He froze for a moment, the sight so unexpected that he simply stared. His first thought was that some student, in a misguided attempt to earn favor, had left it for him. Another one of those meaningless gestures that usually irritated him when he was in a bad mood. Students had done it before—gifts, notes, flowers, confession letter, even food sometimes. But right now, the sight only irritated him further. His patience was hanging by a thread, and this was the last thing he needed.

Zhan angrily reached for the letter, intending to throw it in the trash without even reading it. But as his fingers brushed the paper, something stopped him. His eyes caught the handwriting. Instinctively, his breath hitched. He knew that handwriting. He knew it better than anything.

It was Yibo's.

The sharp edges of his frustration softened, replaced by a quiet confusion. Yibo? He quickly scanned the note. His eyes widened as he read the words, his breath catching in his throat.

"Take the medicine after eating the meal."

The message was short, simple, but it hit Zhan harder than he expected. Zhan's heart clenched as he stared at them. It was Yibo. His husband!!!!! Yibo had sent this for him. For a moment, he just stood there...frozen, staring at the words. He could hear Yibo's voice in his mind, soft but insistent, urging him to take care of himself.

The noise in his head, the endless pounding of his headache, seemed to pause, just for a second. Yibo? How did he know? He hadn't mentioned his headache to him. They barely exchanged a single word these days. Yet, here it was—this small, almost invisible gesture of care.

The coffee cup in Zhan's hand suddenly felt irrelevant, and without hesitation, he threw it into the dustbin. He sat down at his desk, opening the box. Inside was a simple meal—nothing fancy nor home-cooked—takeaway. But it didn't matter, for Zhan it felt like the most thoughtful thing in the world. His fingers brushed the food packaging----Just the fact that Yibo had thought of him, had gone out of his way to bring this for him, was more than enough. A quiet realization washed over Zhan—care wasn't in grand gestures, it was in the quiet acts of love, unnoticed but felt deeply.