Freedom

 Aira tapped on the webstory app. Its icon enlarged, burst into colourful confetti and zoomed out to reveal Aira's profile page. Her eyes skimmed over the bell icon in the upper right corner and her shoulders slumped upon its grey sight. No new notifications, comments, reviews or reads.

The whizz of a coffee machine and the scent of vanilla essence sweetened the sense of misery as her thumb tapped on star shape in the lower left corner of the app. A list of trending stories popped up with the first one was titled, 'I was sold off to the Demon King and Now He is Obsessed with Me!' 

Aira rolled her eyes and swapped the screen until she reached the last page; ranked 96th was her story, 'Loss and Loss.' There was only one upvote on her story, eighteen thousand times less compared to the top grossing story. A sigh escaped her lips.

"Aira, no using phone during your shift!" 

Her teeth clenched as she locked her phone and pocketed it in her uniform. She raised her head to pass a stiff smile to Shumaila, her coworker. Shumaila was kind and beautiful with bright doe eyes, full pink lips and skin as white as moonlight. It wrung Aira's heart to work beside someone like Shumaila.

The chime against the door tinkled in arrival of a customer. Instead of heading to Aira's counter, which was in front of him, the man walked over to Shumaila and began reciting his order with a flirtatious glint in his eye. Shumaila giggled ever so slightly as she typed in his order and confirmed the bill. The flush of a smile caused by the customer earned her a good tip in the Tip Jar. 

"One café latte with whipped cream and mint sprinkles coming right up!" Shumaila recited as she tore the printed receipt off the cash counter and handed it over to the customer. His hand lurked over hers a minute more than what one would be considered gentlemanly. Shumaila retreated her hand as soon as he grabbed the receipt and gestured him to wait on the many empty tables for his order to arrive. 

Though, in the four minutes he waited, she couldn't shake the intense gaze presiding her every move. Sweat clamoured in her hands as she passed a smile to Aira and informed, "I'll take a break for a moment, don't mind," before walking inside the 'Employees Only' room. 

She paced to the locker room while wiping her hands on her apron, again and again, until a searing burn agitated her skin. She gulped as she reached in front of her locker and stared dead into the mirror. Everything seemed normal, nothing was weird about her face. Still, she rubbed her palms all over her features to make sure she had no makeup on.

Nothing.

"Shumaila! Are you f**king kidding me?! What are you doing in here instead of serving customers?! Peak morning hour is about to start! I did not hire your pretty face to hide in the lockers!" Raiden, the young manager, shouted as he entered the locker room.

Shumaila flinched at the loudness of his tone and backed into the locker as Raiden infiltrated her personal space. "I—I, you know, I got anxious. I don't do well when I am anxious and there was this man staring—"

Harsh fingers grabbed her face by her cheeks and pushed them together to seal her lips in a pout. "If you are made this pretty then you better f**king get used to being stared at, you s**ty wh**e!" Raiden cursed. He let go of her face with a jerk when tears welled her doe eyes. Her head hit against the locker handle with a loud thud.

Shumaila whimpered as Raiden walked away with a last warning, enraged steps leading him to where he was heading before getting distracted by the crying mess of a lass. "No body wants to work, everybody wants easy money like it will f**king drop off a tree," Raiden grumbled under his breath as he walked through the 'Employees Only' door.

He beelined towards the cash counters and pocketed all the cash from Shumaila and Aira's cases and Tip Jars. "Don't you make you lose money!" He called to his workers before walking out of the café. The cash wad was thick in his pocket and his steps are hasty on the cobbled floor. A walk turned into a jog which eventually morphed into a run as he dashed past the glistening shop windows of high-end stores. He turned round the corner, into an uphill alleyway which led him to a street contrasting the pleasures of life he left behind.

His pace slowed as the smell of accumulated garbage overwhelmed his senses. Small huts lined both sides of the cracked road, buzzing with employment and overpopulation. Even the sun did not shine in this area, Raiden realised as he made to the twelfth hut on the left of the street.

A scream resonated through the neighborhood and the people surrounding the hut made a way for him, decorated by pitiful glances and harrowing sighs. He gulped as he banged open the wooden plank for a door and found his father swinging a blow at his mother.

He gulped, disgusted, his chest heaved and breath hitched, summoning all his courage he shouted, "Stop! Here's the money! Let her go!" He emptied out the cash wad from his pocket, his eyes not leaving his mother's withering self.

"Da fook am i gon do wid dis? Innit too li'l? Wad do ye think, dis won lemme win!! Can ye no' earn even?! Whot a load o' crap I've born!" The father tsked as he snatched the cash from Raiden's hand and swung the wooden log against Raiden's kneecaps. 

The young boy wailed and collapsed to the floor. His mother slithered closer to shelter her son even when her old bones were shivering like the last leaf in a storm. The father tsked at the pathetic sight infront and walked out.

"Watya lookin' at?! Go yer ways, ye swine lot!" He shouted at the crowd standing outside the door. Though, as one last act of mockery, he threw the log he used as a weapon to beat his family inside their house. It landed against the mother's foot, lifeless and unthreatening without a user. 

"Atleast we got a good one for soup tonight," she whispered in her son's ear, her eyes never leaving the thick log. She pulled away from the hug and patted her son's back, "Let's get going." She had a job to do, places to be at and responsibilities to fulfill. 

Her bones ached as she limped downhill, ignoring the stares and whispers following with the wind. Her feet were already swollen from an older beating and new bruises were beginning to form under the long sleeved blouse she had on. Her shoulders were hunched but the corners of her lips remained upturned. Her circumstances did not wear the smile off her face as she rung the bell at a giant mansion's gate.

"Who is it?" The security man asked through the speakers inbuilt in the wall, beside the bell.

"It's Mary," she informed upon which the metal gates buzzed and drew apart. Her small frame tried its best to not limp inside the mansion's lawn. She squared her shoulders even though they hurt her bruised collarbones, she straightened her back even though it felt like she was being stabbed repeatedly by pins and needles, she held her head high even though all she wanted was to fall to the floor and never get up.

She knocked against a richly engraved wooden door and waited patiently until a muffled "Come in," was uttered. Mary twisted the golden handle and entered the spirit scented room. 

"Morning Mary, how are you?" A voice croaked from the elegant king sized bed lined with sapphire and gold. 

"I'm quite fine, how are you Ms. Vasilissa?" Mary asked as she walked up to the lady's side and gently plucked the blanket off her. 

"I'm as good as I can be. Ahsen is supposed to come today, will you send a word to the kitchen after you help me with the loo?" The lady asked. 

"Of course Madam," Mary replied as she slid her hands underneath Vasilissa's armpits and dragged her limp body onto the wheelchair beside the bed. 

"I want the British Rose scent today, if you don't mind," Lady Vasilissa whispered as Mary dragged her feet off the bed and gently placed them one by one on the footrest of the wheelchair.

"Of course Madam," Mary agreed and pushed the wheelchair from one room to another. "Is there a colour you are thinking of today?" Mary asked as she turned the wheelchair around in a circle to let Vasilissa survey the surrounding masses of clothes in the closet room.

"What do you think Mary? What would be the best colour on me?" Lady Vasilissa giggled.

"You trust this old woman's choice too much, Madam," Mary snorted but proceeded to walk up to a set of pink chanel. "Maybe this?" She asked, smiling genuinely.

"I love your choice!" Lady Vasilissa exclaimed. She wanted to clap but she couldn't; old her would have clapped and hugged Mary for choosing a good outfit but now that she was almost hanging off of a wheelchair custom made for her paralysed body, all she could do was smile to convey her gratefulness. 

The bath was set up, the water was warm and the bubbles smelled like British Rose. Old Vasilissa would have had a bottle of wine and a book to go along with the aesthetic while she soaked. Though now, she had a helper to wash her fingers and the corners of her eyes.

"Tell me a story, Mary," Vasilissa stated as the caretaker gently washed every part of her body like it was her own. 

"Of course Madam," Mary replied and began narrating a love story. A story which Vasilissa could have turned into reality if she were her former self, playing the violin at the Grand Theatre and married to the love of her life. Though, the only romance now left in her life was Mary's unbridled kindness.

After the bath, Mary helped Vasilissa get dressed and set her up for breakfast. 

"Why'd do you always treat me so nicely even when I am nothing now. All my staff left after the accident, Mary, you're the only one who keeps coming back," Vasilissa sighed as Mary fed her a spoonful of cereal. 

"You're like my own," Mary replied simply, having seen Vasilissa grow up more than her own son. She gently wiped the corners of Vasilissa's mouth and fed her another spoon. 

"I should have paid you much better when I had the chance to." 

Mary wheeled the wheelchair to the living room and left Vasilissa alone with her guest. From her line of sight, Vasilissa could only see Ahsen if he were crouching or kneeling in front of her. Old Vasilissa would have pierced people's eyes if they witnessed the love of her life kneeling on the ground but this Vasilissa was pathetic enough to bring fall to him.

"G'day sunshine," Ahsen greeted her with a kiss pressed to her lips. "I've missed you," he said as he held her head in his hands and straightened its droopiness to meet his eye. "You've lost weight?" He frowned when he couldn't feel the former squishiness of her cheeks. "I was gone for a week and that maid was being lazy?! I'll just—"

"Shhh, calm down Ahsen, it's not their fault. I had a bad stomach recently," Vasilissa said. Her instincts urged to run a hand through her lover's lush hair but all she could do was stare in his eyes and convey her love. 

"Bad stomach?" Worry laced his tone and his hand reached her stomach, "Are you okay? What happened? Why didn't you tell me? Did you take meds?" 

Vasilissa wanted to laugh, throw her head back at his cuteness and hug him so tight that she could hear his heartbeat against her ear. Old Vasilissa would have done so but this one could only pinch her cheeks up.

"Of course, it wasn't anything bad, it overate noodles again," she stated. 

Ashen and Vasilissa caught up after he picked her up from the wheelchair and laid her on the sofa with her head resting in his lap. He ran his fingers through her hair as they reminisced their past. When it was time to leave, Ahsen settled Vasilissa back in her bed and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"I'll see you soon, okay? Miss me," he kissed her cheeks and stood up.

"I always do," Vasilissa replied with the same love in her eyes that she used to have. Something tightened in Ahsen's chest as he locked the door behind him and walked through the darkened hallways of a once shining mansion. 

Tears whelmed his eyes at the thought of what his beloved was going through. She used to be the brightest shining star of the high society and now that she had stopped burning, everyone who used to clamour around her had disappeared. His love was treated so wrongly by the world but his love never complained about the mistreatment.

Why was his love so good?

Ahsen pressed a hand against his heart and settled on the entry footsteps of the mansion. Visiting Vasilissa every week crumbled his spirit. He wanted peace but he couldn't let his beloved be abandoned yet again, not when he was alive and breathing after all that happened.

Ahsen pulled out his phone from his coat pocket and opened up the Webstory app. Every week, visiting Vasilissa, he is reminded to publish a new chapter of, 'I was sold off to the Demon King and Now He is Obsessed with Me!' Vasilissa loved the escapism it provided her and if that was the only thing he could do for his beloved after getting married behind her back, then so be it.