When Malaika first discovered shifter romances, she had been thirty-seven, and she had ended a five-year relationship citing irreconcilable differences. The differences, as such, comprised of where to press the tube of toothpaste, how to effectively launder clothes, and where to place the front door keys. The argument that set everything on edge was one of Kant being the worst thing in philosophy and academia in general. This paired with the fact that she did not want to live in the city anymore imploded said relationship to the point of smitherins.

She had expected it to be a blow to her personhood, but she had been surprisingly okay about the whole thing. She had handled it like the adult she thought she was realised and emotionally mature. She’d then turned to the library because she had decided that was the last relationship she was ever going to be in before she picked the first shifter romance, and it changed her completely.

‘Wolf’s Mate’, it was called, and by the time she was done with it, she thought she would have been a perfect protagonist in a shifter romance. That stemmed from the fact that she was perpetually alone, had a penchant for attracting the weirdest of things, and seemed to have no aversion to most cringy things.

That is, save for one.

One of the stupidest lines that gave her second-hand embarrassment, despite all her years of consuming shifter romances, was, ‘You are my mate,’ because what the ever living fuck was that? Normal people didn’t talk like that - even if they were wolf-like. They had been socialized among people. Using the word ‘mate’ in the absence of irony spoke to something deep and sinister that she could not be bothered to uncover.

She should have uncovered it before someone decided to use said sentence, directed toward her.

She smiled a smile she hoped looked kindly in a very concerned way and not loopy like her closed-lipped smiles tended to look. There was only one realistic answer to all that was happening. “I understand you are my hallucination, but let us be very serious right now. I would much rather you use soulmate.”

Hanwi cocked her head to the side. The wind was diabolical - making her hair move like a floating waterfall. She was creative, Malaika decided. It wasn’t an easy thing imagining someone as ethereal-looking as Hanwi. If she was to be stuck with her imaginings, she was proud to see that she would surround herself with such magnificent beauty.
“Hallucination?” Hanwi asked.

Malaika waved her off. “Don’t worry, I won’t imagine you away or anything like that. It figures you’d appear after all this time, no? What triggered you? Do you know? I don’t know much about schizophrenia but I have read a couple of books. It’s the faces. Yours is pretty, not scary at all. What concerns me is how much you’ll talk when I am in the company of others. I am not adept at ignoring, but I am not keen on prooving to that lot that I might actually be a witch, you know.” Malaika went quiet, tapping at her chin.

“What?”

But Malaika didn’t answer. Instead, she went on. “Unless you really are some demon, and I am some witch, leave. I’ll have you know I was a Catholic during my formative years, and I know how to exorcise.” Absolving herself of all initial guilt, Malaika clinically studied her from head to toe. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can you cloth yourself?”

Hanwi continued looking puzzled. “Do you mind lending me some? I left mine at camp.”

Malaika’s eyes twinkled as she let out a small laugh. “Camp, right.” She winked. “Follow me then. We don’t want the voices in my head to be sick.”

Malaika was almost to the point of skipping by the time they reached the main door. “I have so many questions for you,” she said as she swung the door open, turning on the lights. At that point, the sun was but a twinkle in the horizon, and fireflies were starting to set amock by the water. The cold had gotten to the point of biting, even for Malaika, so she let a shiver take over right after she locked the door after Hanwi.

“How do you plan on wearing them?” She asked as she walked to the only bedroom, beckoning her after herself.
Despite having lived in the area for close to two decades, she could count a handful of times she had had guests come over. She liked her solitude, but sometimes she missed the bustle of people and talk. She was rather enjoying the onset of schizophrenia if she was being honest with herself. She wondered idly if this was how she was going to discover if she had developed yapper tendencies in her advanced age. It was a known thing among the women in her family - they were born and certified yappers.

“I guess I’ll wear them like normal people?” Hanwi answered.

Malaika winked her way. “Yeah, normal.” She tossed her a formless long dress and a cardigan.

Hanwi easily caught them. “What is happening?” she asked, but Malaika was busy humming away to a tune that spoke of celebration.