Page 196 of Invisible Bars
“So like I said,” he continued, standing to grab his phone. “Today—and probably the rest of this week—you’re staying home. Relax. Heal. Enjoy some more free time off. I’ma call Ms. Shirley so she can get you healing a little faster. You need a recovery bath before you turn into Jell-O on the sheets.” He chuckled.
And as much as I wanted to stay mad… I laughed too. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what the internet was saying… and how long before it all reached me directly.
Ten minutes later, Ms. Shirley entered the room, cheerful and composed as ever.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Kors.”
Ms. Shirley only learned about the marriage over the weekend, when Imanio and I finally told her. Before that, when she’d said,“Well, this is your house,”it was because Imanio had let her believe I was just a permanent guest—like we were only girlfriend and boyfriend, nothing more.
“Good morning,” I mumbled, adjusting the blanket over my chest. “But y-you don’t have to be so formal with m-me, Ms. Shirley. Naji is fine—casserole coffin!”I cringed.
She and I both looked at Imanio, expecting some kind of reaction.
A frown. A smart remark. Something.
But he didn’t even look up from his phone.
“Well,” Ms. Shirley said gently, “are you ready, dear? Your bath awaits you.”
“Yes,” I groaned, wincing as I eased myself out of bed like my entire body had turned into aching mush.
My legs trembled the moment my feet touched the floor, and I moved like I was ninety-five years old. Every step made me feel the acheright there, and every ache brought a new wave of random chaos from my mouth.
“Limp biscuit lightning rod! Sweet baby ow! Jesus—okay!”
Imanio finally looked up, smirking as he set his phone aside. Ms. Shirley covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“I’ll be downstairs eating breakfast if you get out before I’m done,” he said. “Although I don’t think you will be.”
I gave him a lazy glare and nodded, biting back a smile as I held onto the bedpost for balance.
Ms. Shirley looped her arm gently through mine and helped me down the hall. I limped beside her like a wounded soldier on a mission. She walked slowly, like she was holding back laughter with every step. I couldfeelher trying to be professional, but every few feet, I blurted something wild.
“Macaroni machete! Oooh—I swear this man broke my pelvic soul—cramp carnival!”
Ms. Shirley pressed her lips together hard, eyes twinkling.
“Take your time, baby,” she said, steady and calm. “No judgment here. I’ve seen worse.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Defineworse—devil dick damage!”
Ms. Shirley finally let out a chuckle as she guided me into the bathroom. When I entered, I was taken aback—in awe. That wasn’t just a bathroom; it was a wholeexperience.
Floor-to-ceiling marble tile gleamed beneath soft golden light, a custom waterfall feature trickled into the back wall, and tropical plants curled around the window edges, casting delicate green shadows.
But the real centerpiece? A freestanding, deep oval tub—glossy white with gold claw feet—sat in the center beneath a skylight, where the morning sun poured directly down. Steam curled from the surface like a silent invitation.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Ms. Shirley chimed in, smiling proudly. “Oh, what I would give to relax in one of those.” She sighed, her voice trailing off like she already knew that happening wasn’t ever in the cards for her.
“I’ll ask Imanio if y-you could one day,” I said, completely serious, stepping further into the bathroom.
She shook her head quickly, chuckling softly. “Oh, no, dear! That won’t be necessary… just wishful thinking.”
I paused, resting my hand on the edge of the tub, the warmth of it grounding.
“Dreams… do come true,” I commented quietly, placing a few fingers in the tub to test the temperature. “J-just look at m-me. I never thought I would live in a house like this either—tampon trampoline!”
Ms. Shirley didn’t say anything; she just nodded.
