Side Effects of Obedience: A Morning of Surprising Comfort

This story was submitted on September 26th 2026 by Cicada33, author of The road to freedom. If you have a story to submit it’s right here !

This story is a series divided into 15 parts:

The pounding of the rain on the window woke me up from my sleep, it’s morning. My eyes were heavy, and my face was tight from dried tears, but there was no longer the fire of last night in my chest. I felt calm, and then I remembered the night before.

As I lay there looking at the ceiling, I made a decision. That last night was weakness. A moment of hysteria. I have to draw the old, clear line between me and Martha. We’ll be roommates who barely see each other in the hallway, we’ll share the bills and that’s it. I’ll hold out for a few more months until I find a job, get the money together and move out.

I got up, got dressed, ready to tell Marta coldly and decisively that everything between us is back to the way it was, roommates, not friends.

However, as soon as I pressed the door handle and opened the room door, I collided with a new, completely unexpected smell. A scent that reminded me of my childhood.

The warm smell of fried bacon, toasted bread and freshly brewed homemade coffee came from the kitchen.

Step by step, I quietly approached the kitchen door and stopped. Marta was standing by the table, setting the plates. I have never seen her cook in the past few weeks. I was left in shock.

“You’re on time,” she said calmly, a slight, almost imperceptible smile appearing on her face. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a little bit of everything. Sit down and eat until it gets cold.” “Martha, I…” I mouthed, but she cut me off before I could raise my shield. “Sorry about last night, it was reckless on my part. I wouldn’t like to continue our friendship on last night’s tone.”

I was speechless. All those cold, distant sentences I prepared in the room melted away in a second. I didn’t have the strength to say a single word. I went to the bathroom, washed my hands with trembling movements, came back and sat across.

We ate in silence.

It was the first time I had the opportunity to observe her this close, without her dark makeup. She looked younger. Her red hair was casually pulled back into a bun with a few strands falling out, she wore a baggy gray cotton dussie and tight leggings on her legs, Her nose piercing no longer seemed rebellious, it just looked like a tiny, shiny spot on a girl who actually had incredibly mild features. A small tattoo could be seen under the sleeve on her left arm. While she was cutting the bread, I noticed her fingers, her nails were short, without polish, and on the index finger of her right hand, the skin was slightly yellow, her teeth also had a slight yellow color, the effects of smoking. It took me right back to last night, having to end this friendship of ours, but then again, that same girl with yellowed tobacco fingers got up early this morning to make breakfast for me.

“I know it’s probably weird for you to see me in an apron,” Martha broke the silence, laughing softly. “My mother worked two shifts at a bakery when I was little. You learn to cook or you starve. There is no third.” I looked at her, surprised at this tiny piece of her past that she so easily shared with me.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, “breakfast is really delicious.” My mother never cooked, she was always busy with work. But all this reminded me of my grandmother who used to cook for me all the time when I was little and so I had a feeling of warmth, of home.

We finished breakfast, Marta put the dishes away, and I sat stiffly at the table. What am I doing, I should draw a clear line between the two of us, and not get even closer.

“I hope the tea is all right,” she said, sitting down again across from me. I just nodded silently, cupping the warm cup in my palms.

Marta took a sip of coffee, and then her eyes turned to the balcony door. Outside, with a dull and boring sound, the morning rain fell, soaking the gray concrete of the terrace. She took out a pack from her sweatshirt pocket, turned it over in her hands, and then looked at me with some unusual, almost childish hesitation. “I know we have a no smoking policy inside and I really don’t want to break your house rules,” she said quietly, nodding towards the shower outside. “But is it okay if I light just this one with the coffee? It won’t happen again, I promise.”

I looked at her. There was no last night’s insolence in her voice, just a sincere plea. “You can,” I drawled glumly, glancing back at my cup of tea. “Just open that window.”

“Thank you, you saved me,” she smiled, getting up to open the window, cool, damp air wafting through the kitchen in seconds.

As she returned to her chair and took out a cigarette, my head was in total chaos. What the hell am I doing? I screamed to myself.

I came into this kitchen with a clear plan to erect an impenetrable wall, to let her know where she belongs and draw the strictest possible boundaries. And now? Now I sit here, drinking the tea she made for me and allowing her to break the rules that I myself, with so much authority, introduced on the first day of moving in. Yesterday I complained to her, I talked to her like a friend, she almost lit the cigarette I was holding in my hands, and today I’m already letting her poison the air in my apartment. Where did my self control go? Where did Ena disappear, who holds all the strings in her hands?

Marta brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette. She inhaled the smoke slowly, almost reverentially, then threw her head back and exhaled it towards the open window. Through the thin veil of smoke that hung between us, I watched as her ashes slowly gathered on top of the embers.

Marta held her cigarette with incredible elegance. She looked incredibly calm. Feel free. She brought it to her lips, took another long, slow smoke, and her eyes half closed in pure pleasure, her large breasts straightened and stood out. Bluish wisps of smoke drifted in thin threads through the open window, mixing with the moisture and smell of the rain that was pouring down harder and harder outside. I watched as the ash on the top of her embers grew dangerously long, but she did not shake it off. She was completely calm in that moment, in the warm cup of coffee and that one breath. Looking at her, I felt a strange, forgotten sense of security wash over me. I felt comfortable in her company. Maybe the rules really aren’t the most important thing in the world. Maybe it’s okay to just slow down for a moment and…

Zzz Zzz

The sharp, harsh sound of vibration on the wooden table cut through the silence of the kitchen.

I winced, almost spilling my tea. My phone glowed right next to my hand, relentlessly vibrating and spinning in circles on the table. I looked at the screen, and in a second my heart made a painful overturn in my chest and went straight to my stomach.

Mom…

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Side effects of obedience (part 3)

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