𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 - 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚔

chopsticks.

His expression changed as if he were surprised by my answer on the tip of my tongue. His eyes are now heavy, with slow winks and heavy breathing. "I know" he confirms by turning his gaze back on me. I know there have been speculations about our relationship in the media from the beginning, with our photos at The Ritz, in the car during the line for Alyn Williams, in the recordings in Oslo. But I never thought Oliver would come to me for explanations.

"Oliver I don't have time for this, it's late and I have work tomorrow morning, so please go away," I ask.

"No," he answers quickly, "I came here for you. I'm not leaving without you," he approaches.

"Oliver, stop" he warns me and I press my body against the counter. I feel a tremendous urge to cry, but I know I can't be weak, not in front of him.

"You're the love of my life, you know I never wanted to hurt you like that." With every step of it, my heart tightens.

I sneak into the middle of the kitchen, where I keep the cutlery, without looking nervous or irritated. "Oliver that was a long time ago. I moved on, it took me a while, but I moved on. And you should do the same." I try to sound understanding and calm like I'm walking around my house without my abusive ex-boyfriend present. I take the yakisoba package and put it on the sink, and just on top the cutlery drawer. He follows me and it looks like my staging is working.

"I've always loved you Dominique, you know that. You're mine." He says, leaning his hands on the bench.

"I'm not yours" I correct, grabbing a fork and a knife. I always use chopsticks, but they won't help me if I get attacked by Oliver. He comes closer to me to see what I'm doing. He notices the cutlery and chopsticks on the side of the pot.

"You always use the chopsticks, why you got the-?" he starts asking. We both know what's going on.

"I think you have to go," I say, holding the knife tightly, but with my wrists still resting on the sink.

He looks at my trembling hands and then at my challenging eyes. He comes even closer and his face is a few inches from mine.

"You're still mine," he says, slowly, with his hot breath.

My cell phone starts ringing. The ringing echoes through the kitchen in my pocket and we both look down. He walks away and sits in the chair right behind him. "He must be your boyfriend. Answer it." He commands with that invoked look that he always gave when he was very angry that he was able to punch a wall and stick it through. My hand glides slowly through my pocket, grabbing the device while it still touches. On the screen, Rami's picture on the Oslo pier appears, along with his name and a red hearted emoji, but only I can see. I slide my finger across the screen and answer. With a trembling voice, I answer. "Hello.

"Hi Domi, how are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Where are you?"

"I'm home. How are you?" I ask and I realize that the kitchen is in deafening silence, that Rami's voice can be heard even by Oliver sitting down.

"I'm a little tired, I've been writing the voice-overs and recording them for three episodes just today." He breathes hard on the other side of the line, but my eyes are scared and fixed on Oliver, just as his eyes are fixed on mine.

Oliver whispers to me to turn off the call without making any sound, which makes me hold my breath and I remain silent on the call. I really don't know how to disconnect the call without getting my boyfriend's attention. I'm thinking very slowly.

"Dom, is everything okay? What's going on?" his concerned take over his voice.

He realized there's something wrong with me.

"Honey, I'm going to have to hang up because I'm too busy too, I brought a lot of stuff home from work and tomorrow I have to wake up early, so I'll call you tomorrow. Bye." I quickly turn off the call and hold the phone close to my face.

Oliver gets up from his chair and fixes his jacket. I feel that urge to cry again, more intense than I can even feel my face getting warm.

"Bye my love" he whispers in my ear.

He tries to get a lock of hair out of my face, but I deviate from his touch...

"Don't you dare touch me or I'll call the police," he warns, still holding my cell phone so tightly that my fingertips turn white.

He raises his arms as if he had understood the message and was moving away. He walks to the door with steady steps. My breathing gets shorter and shorter and the moment he comes out and slams the door, the tears roll down my cheeks, hot and desperate. Feeling this way reminds me of all the fights we had, where he left me alone, crying, shrinking in the corner of the room. The tears kept rolling, more and more intensely. I feel disgusted by him and the way he makes me feel.

I feel bad for lying to Rami, but I was feeling threatened. I wish I could open up and say that my ex-boyfriend was in my house while he was working across the ocean.

Rami doesn't need to know that.