Lina's Crisis (Ongoing)

Chapter Seven

From: Lina Hart

To: Reckitt benckiser

Subject: Re:Re: Angry hate mail, DO NOT IGNORE

A TV advert starring me?! Have I ever told you that it was one of my childhood dreams to be in one that everyone will see? This is fabulous! Now, I am a wife it couldn't be a better match. I am almost thankful for the stain that got me here to this point. You will not regret this, I already started my rehearsals in front of the mirror. The excitement is just coursing through my veins right now! Thank you for this opportunity.

In case you got confused, my answer is a big Yes!

Yours sincerely,

Lina Hart

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This is surreal. I am not a human anymore because my soul is just floating between the clouds. I could have never guessed that all of this stress and sleepless nights will morph into something like this. I am itching to call everyone and tell them about what just happened but I restrain myself. I will wait after the advert being shot and post about it on Facebook. A milestone on my way to fame. A squeal of glee almost escapes my mouth but Ali just stirs in bed. Yes, I am awake before him and I feel high on energy. The world is full of wonders.

I am going through my Facebook when a meme gets my attention. It's a cartoon version of a rooster wearing a white coat standing all cocky and a hen staring dreamily at it with a bubble saying HATERS GONNA HATE! A laugh just hangs in my throat. On and on, I see different people sharing it. What a coincidence, Sara just said something similar to this. Not even 24 hours later and it's a trending meme. So either she has superpowers and a glass orb 🔮or someone hacked our phones, listened to our conversation and trying to get the credit. Surely, Sara has no hands in this or does she?

My conspiracy theories are halted by a picture of characters out of playing cards where one is throwing up and the other is patting his back. The post says, "In medieval times, wives used to put some kind of poison in their husbands' food where they can't stay outside the house because of the pain. When they come home, the wives give them the antidote without them noticing, thus linking their marital home to feeling better."

I am totally gripped by the idea and for the first time Devil Lina is supporting me, her eyes gleaming in wickedness. If we think abstractly, the root of my problems, is that my lovely husband isn't in my orbit all the time. You know what they say, guys are like phones, if they can't connect to your WiFi, they will start searching for another. A plan is formulating in my head and Devil Lina is fine-tuning the details. I am quite glad she is on my side, collaboration of the year without a doubt. I glance at the clock and I have 30 minutes to whip up a good breakfast for Ali, come up with an excuse for my inexplicable behaviour and look like a normal human being instead of a sloth.

I make a folded omelette with a filling of mushrooms, peppers, cherry tomatoes and an assortment of cheese. The smell is incredible and wafting through the house. I toast some bread and fill a glass with freshly squeezed orange juice. I put a flower from our garden into a small vase and the table looks perfect. I quickly change my clothes and brush my hair and add a dab of makeup on my face. I am trying to think of a witty/innocent excuse when Ali comes out of the bathroom, with a towel around his waist. Droplets of water, falling from his wet hair, are glistening on his chest and my eyes are following them. He's such a hot hot hottie.

"Did you cook breakfast?", he asks sniffing the air.

My eyes snap back to his face, my lips pulling into a smile. "Oh yes, I figured that a day without breakfast is like a phone without a charger," I say cheekily. What the hell am I saying?