Jealous Lover

"What…?" Islinda finally managed to say after what felt like an eternity of silence. Her voice trembled with disbelief, as though the word itself was foreign on her tongue.

"Let's get married," Andre repeated, his tone calm, as if he were suggesting something as ordinary as a walk in the garden. The sheer casualness of it only added to the absurdity of the situation.

The room seemed to tilt on its axis, and Islinda blinked rapidly, certain she had misheard him. But no, he had just said it—twice. The words hung in the air like an impossible dream, and for a moment, Islinda felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

Then, before she could stop herself, Islinda burst into laughter. It was a wild, unrestrained sound, one that echoed off the walls of the room. She laughed and laughed until tears streamed down her face. "Oww," she muttered when her hand accidentally brushed against the wound on her chest, and the tears of mirth turned to ones of pain.