Chapter Text
Asami stood in the kitchen, the aroma of rice and stir-fried vegetables filling the air as she carefully prepared breakfast. The sizzle of the pan was a familiar sound, one that had become part of her daily routine. Every dish was meticulously chosen—steamed rice, a light stir-fry, and perfectly brewed tea—each one a favorite of Iroh’s. She moved with a practiced grace, her motions efficient and precise, as though she were following a script she had long since memorized.
She carried the tray toward the dining table, her eyes catching on the window that overlooked the garage. For a moment, she paused, her gaze lingering on the building that had once been her sanctuary. In her mind’s eye, she could see the blueprints she had stored there, designs for a new type of car that she had started years before marrying Iroh. The plans had once excited her, filling her with a sense of purpose and possibility. Now, they lay forgotten, gathering dust in a corner, rotting away for over a year.
A year into her marriage, and the fire that had once fueled her had dwindled to embers. She had fought at first, resisting Iroh’s gentle yet firm insistence that her place was here, at home. But each time she pushed back, she was met with a calm, unwavering gaze and a litany of reasons why it was best for her to step back, to focus on their home, on their future.
She set the tray on the dining table, her movements mechanical. In the quiet of the morning, the ticking of the clock sounded louder than usual. Iroh had gone out early, as he often did, heading to the headquarters, or so she believed. It was a routine she had grown accustomed to—his early departures, the long hours of waiting, and his eventual return.
As she sat down, the steam from the tea curling in delicate spirals, her eyes fell on a small stack of letters on the table. Bills, advertisements—nothing of interest. But then, her gaze landed on an envelope with familiar handwriting. Opal. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she opened the letter, her friend’s words a welcome reprieve from the monotony.
“Dear Asami,” it began, “I’m heading to the beach with my boyfriend and his brother for a week and I thought of you immediately. You need a break, and I know just the place! It’ll be just like old times. Please say you’ll come.”
Asami’s smile faded as she read on, her heart sinking with each word. The idea of a vacation, of freedom, was a distant dream, one she knew she could not grasp. Iroh would never allow it. The thought of asking him, of seeing the look of disapproval in his eyes, was enough to extinguish any flicker of hope she might have felt.
She carefully folded the letter and placed it next to the untouched teacup. The familiar weight of resignation settled over her once more as she stood, moving to pour herself another cup of tea. The clink of the teapot against the cup was the only sound in the quiet room.
The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Asami looked up to see Iroh entering the room, already dressed in his military uniform, a smile of approval spreading across his face as he took in the sight of the breakfast laid out before him.
“Good morning, dear,” he said warmly, walking over to her. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. Asami forced herself to stay still, her body stiffening involuntarily. The taste of his kiss was like ash in her mouth, and a wave of nausea threatened to rise, but she willed herself to endure it. She knew better than to pull away, even though every fiber of her being wanted to recoil. Instead, she focused on the floor, her thoughts distant and detached, her smile as practiced as ever.
As he pulled away, Iroh’s smile never wavered, and he took his seat at the table, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside her. Asami watched him begin to eat, her own appetite long since faded, and she turned away, her hands trembling slightly as she busied herself with clearing the counter. The day had only just begun, but already, it felt like an eternity stretched before her.
Asami watched Iroh eat in silence, her hands absently smoothing out the folds of her apron. He had started chattering about his day yesterday—something about meetings, reports, and the usual army business. She forced herself to nod along, trying to focus on his words, but her mind was already drifting. The sound of his voice became a dull hum as her thoughts wandered to the blueprints she had left untouched for so long.
She imagined herself back in the garage, tools in hand, the smell of oil and metal surrounding her as she worked on the designs that had once filled her with excitement. But the thought was fleeting, quickly replaced by the weight of reality pressing down on her.
Then something caught her attention. Iroh had produced an envelope from his pocket and was unfolding it with deliberate care. He cleared his throat, the sound bringing her back to the present, and began to read aloud.
“Deployment orders,” he said, his tone serious. “I’m being sent to the Fire Nation for a year. They need someone to oversee a new initiative.”
Asami felt her heart skip a beat. A year? The thought of being free from his constant presence, even if only for a while, sent a surge of hope through her. Maybe, just maybe, she could return to her blueprints while he was gone. He wouldn’t know, and she could finally feel like herself again, even if only in secret.
But just as quickly as the hope had sparked, it was snuffed out. Iroh continued, “Of course, I’ve already arranged for someone to look after you while I’m away. A good friend of mine will be staying here to make sure you’re taken care of.”
Asami’s breath caught in her throat. The idea of being watched, of having someone monitor her every move in his absence, filled her with dread. The fleeting joy she had felt was crushed under the weight of his words.
She wanted to retort, to tell him she was a grown woman, fully capable of taking care of herself. The urge to lash out, to make him understand the depth of her frustration, was almost overwhelming. But something deep inside her kept her silent. She forced herself to swallow her words, nodding instead, a practiced smile barely hiding the storm within.
Instead, she forced a smile, her voice steady even as her heart pounded in her chest. “Thank you, Iroh. It’s kind of you to think of me and my well-being.”
He smiled back at her, clearly satisfied with her response. He stood up, wiping his lips with a napkin before placing it neatly on the table. With a practiced gesture, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Be good while I’m gone,” he said softly, his tone affectionate but laced with a warning that only she could hear.
Asami nodded, her forced smile still in place as he turned away, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. She watched him leave, the sound of the door closing behind him like a final note in a long, dreary symphony. The house, once again, fell into silence, but the echo of his words lingered, wrapping around her like a chain she couldn’t break.
—
The day passed in a blur of monotony. Asami spent the hours doing what she had done for the past year, the routine so ingrained it required no thought. She cleaned the house from top to bottom, scrubbing the floors, dusting the shelves, and polishing every surface until it gleamed. Iroh’s clothes were scattered across their bedroom, and she carefully folded each piece, placing them in neat piles or hanging them in the closet.
As she worked, a thought flickered in her mind—a quiet gratitude that she clung to in the midst of her stifling life. She was thankful that they didn’t have any children yet. It was the one thing she had managed to keep control over, taking her suppressants and birth control pills diligently without Iroh’s knowledge. It was a small act of defiance, but it was hers. Her body was the last thing she had any say over, and she’d be damned if she let Iroh take that away from her too. She counted herself fortunate that he hadn’t realized what she was doing.
By the time she finished her chores, her muscles ached, and a dull fatigue had settled over her. But there was still time left in the day, and with Iroh away, she allowed herself a small indulgence. She slipped into her room, quietly closing the door behind her, and retrieved a sketchbook hidden in the back of her drawer. The pages were filled with drawings—designs for cars, sketches of mechanisms, and detailed plans that had never seen the light of day.
She sat by the window, the fading light casting long shadows across the room, and let her mind drift as she sketched. For a while, the world outside ceased to exist, and she was once again the woman she used to be, full of ideas and ambition. The lines on the paper flowed easily, her hand moving with a confidence she had almost forgotten she possessed.
So lost was she in her drawings that the sound of the door opening downstairs startled her. She glanced at the clock on the wall and felt a jolt of panic—she hadn’t realized it was already past 6 PM. Iroh would be home, and she hadn’t prepared dinner. Heart racing, she scrambled to hide her sketchbook and pencils, hastily tucking them back into the drawer before smoothing down her clothes.
She hurried downstairs, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts as she reached the front door just in time. Iroh was already stepping inside, his tall figure backlit by the porch light, casting long shadows across the floor. The faint scent of his cologne—a mix of sandalwood and something sharper, more metallic—filled the room, mingling with the lingering aromas of dinner.
“Welcome home,” Asami greeted, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.
“Good evening, love,” Iroh responded, his tone warm and affectionate. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a brief hug that felt more like a formality than a gesture of affection.
Asami’s heart was still pounding, her mind racing with thoughts of the hidden sketchbook, but she forced herself to smile and relax in his embrace.
Iroh pulled back, his eyes glinting with something she couldn’t quite place. Then, with a smooth gesture, he moved aside and gestured toward the figure standing in the doorway. “Dear, this is the friend I was talking about, Korra Imaq.”
And with that, the first day of the rest of Asami’s life began.