Ibu - Hot

“I’m not a hot mess, Dika,” she said quietly. “I’m just… hot. And tired. And I don’t remember the last time someone saw me as the first kind of hot.”

Silence, except for the baby’s wail and the drip of something sticky from the ceiling. ibu hot

“I’m sorry about the curry,” he said, handing her a glass. “I’m not a hot mess, Dika,” she said quietly

And for the first time in a long time, the word hot felt less like a warning and more like a promise. “I’m not a hot mess