Work Text:
It was a fine life, she supposes.
Shuri breathed in, face firmly pressed against the cold sheets. One eye still closed, the other trained on the dark shine of her phone.
A moment--then her alarm went off.
6:30 AM
Shuri groaned, letting her mind drift for a moment before she sat up. She slid into her slippers without further theatrics.
Today began like any other day, but last night still clung to her sleep-addled mind.
Shuri always prided herself for her control. It’s why she entered her arranged marriage. Her family needed the connection to ease tensions, but no one wished to tie themselves to a strange, outsider.
Elders loved to boast about upholding tradition, yet were still wary of such an arrangement. No one wanted to forfeit the throne, nor part with their dreams of love.
Shuri had no such dreams. She stepped up easily--taking the weight from her brother.
No one forced her into it. She was fine with it all as long as she could continue her work in peace.
She controlled the negotiation terms, her public image, their private boundaries. Their marriage was friendly, in the same way you respect a colleague or colleague’s friend. She had offered to let him step outside of the marriage for physical fulfillment, but he refused.
Shuri had followed suit out of respect for the arrangement. She had never been tempted before. Until last night, that is. Shuri was at a loss thinking about it.
Shuri was at a loss thinking about her.
She had worked alongside the American scientist for weeks now. Riri had joined their labs as a part of Wakanda’s newest outreach programs. Shuri hand-picked the candidates herself.
Riri didn’t submit her application on time, but still found a way to get into their systems and submit it before morning. Naturally, Shuri noticed the intrusion immediately, but she was impressed. High skill and equally high audacity were hard to find nowadays.
The problem was that once Shuri noticed Riri, she couldn’t look away. She had an easy confidence, bright at the edges. Her voice was loud, laugh easily carrying across the lab. But she had rough hands and a stern, level gaze that spoke to how hard she fought to be looked at, to be heard.
Shuri never wanted to look away.
She wanted Riri to look her way.
That night was no different. Riri’s locs were gathered into a high bun, revealing the soft dip of her nape and the beauty marks dotting her skin. Every-so-often she’d sit up from her crouched position, letting out soft sighs as she stretched.
Shuri watched, not thinking. She was on her third coffee at that point. She had ignored at least three calls from her husband. It was shitty, but she was in a mood and didn’t want him to get caught up in it. Something was wrong with this report, but she couldn’t figure it out.
After hearing Shuri grumble over the report for the past hour, Riri had gotten up to take a look at it. Shuri handed it over, glad for the help and the company. Riri’s hand briefly brushed against her own, warm.
Shuri wasn’t thinking.
She leaned down, chasing the warmth.
Kissing her was easy in a way Shuri never thought was possible. Catching Riri’s sighs with her mouth. Fingers dragging across her nape and down the column of her throat, lips then teeth following.
It was over as fast as it began.
Riri pulled away, hand covering her mouth as she stared back at Shuri. She looked horrified, “You’re…married,” she croaked, still breathless.
Shuri blinked, confused, then remembering, “Oh,” she tried to gather her thoughts, “It’s…arranged, it isn’t…” she tried to explain. It isn’t like this. The marriage didn’t mean much beyond paper. Shuri’s husband was friendly enough, but he isn’t like Riri.
But those feelings were jumbled, frozen on Shuri's tongue. Riri’s face only soured. The once bright expression cold all at once, turning Shuri’s stomach.
“But he wouldn’t like it,” Riri shook her head, turning to pick up the now scattered pages of the report, “I’ve seen the way he watches you. I know how the world watches the both of you--they love you,”
“But I…” Shuri couldn’t think. Still reeling at the thought--He loves her?
“You may not love him,” Riri continued, brows furrowed, “But he does love you and that’s your husband," she quickly finished gathering the papers, “I’m not interested in getting between that. I don't want to be a third--or a fling--or a home-wrecker--” she was a storm of frantic energy, her voice pitching, as she shoved the report into a file and towards Shuri.
Shuri fumbled after her, discarding the report, “Riri wait--you wouldn’t--”
“What would I be then--?” Riri snapped, lips pulled into a thin line, “ I'm a friend? A fuck-buddy? The girlfriend you see on weekends? I... want all of you Shuri, you want--”
Shuri reached towards her.
“--I’m not even sure you know what you want,” Riri pulled away, not letting her touch, “I’m not preaching and telling you how to live your life, but I --I can't.”
Riri wouldn’t look at Shuri. Shuri wanted her to look, to touch, to burn her.
Riri wouldn't dare.
She submitted her resignation letter that same night.
Shuri gripped her sheets, terribly cold.
She had a fine life. She married a man who respected her well enough. Apparently he loves her, but he hasn’t asked her to do the same. She can do as she wants, work as much as she wants.
Shuri’s life was fine. Her sheets were cold. Her bedroom, cold. Her slippers, her lab, her home--all cold, cold, cold. She never minded before, but now?
Shuri was utterly repulsed.
The breadth of her indifference itched at her skin. The waves rippled to reveal an entirely different beast down under. A life so unmoving that she couldn’t tell whether she was breathing or drowning.
Shuri pulled an old sweatshirt over herself, shuffling into the kitchen. Her husband sat at the table eating breakfast. A plate was made and set aside for her despite Shuri never eating in the mornings.
Shuri made her coffee quietly. Once made, she leaned against the counter, taking in her husband and home.
She raised the mug to her lips, “I want a divorce,” she said, breaking the silence.
Shuri took a sip of her coffee.
It burned.