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It’s Suman’s day for chores, and Shardul took full advantage—he used so many dishes at breakfast that she’s still washing them when he gets home. She casts him a dirty look over her shoulder when he passes the kitchen, and he resists grinning, because if there’s one thing he’s learned about having a wife, it’s when not to push her buttons. They might not truly be together, certainly not sharing bodies and not even sharing rooms, but she can still make his life painful. He makes his way quietly to the washroom, needing a shower after a long jog in the sun.
He’s on auto-pilot, which is normally a safe mode in his own home, so he’s already got his shirt halfway unbuttoned by the time he realizes something’s off. Then he nearly jumps out of his skin. He stumbles back, swearing loud, hitting the edge of the open door. He’s frozen and shaken. There’s a girl in his bathtub.
Well, a woman. Half a woman. A mermaid. There’s a mermaid lounging in waist-high water, one of Suman’s old t-shirts draped over her body, damp and glued to her skin. A long, iridescent black tail is draped over the side, fins glittering in the low light. She has straight black hair and blunt-cut bangs, a round face with almond eyes, soft pink lips that frown up at him, but her posture’s relaxed. She looks cool as a cucumber, perfectly at peace with trespassing. Shardul’s mouth opens and closes, trying to form words.
Without breaking eye-contact, because the mermaid’s staring into his soul, Shardul calls, “Suman!”
She appears next to him, already summoned by his swearing. She takes one look at him, then the tub, and casually explains, “Oh, that’s my girlfriend.”
Shardul blinks at her. He stares at the mermaid. His brain’s still not working, but the job kicks in, and he numbly asks, “Name?”
“Rimjhim,” the mermaid answers, not exactly friendly, just matter-of-fact.
He follows, “Title?”
“What?”
“Title!”
Rimjhim looks at him like he’s lost it, then answers, “Girlfriend...?”
He rolls his eyes and demands, “Surname.”
“Jongkey,” Suman fills in. “What does it matter?”
“What’s she doing here?”
“She’s moving in with us.”
“What?”
Shardul stares at his wife like she’s turned neon blue, and the mermaid just keeps chilling in his tub without anything to add. It takes him a minute to slow the millions of thoughts in his head, to splutter out, “Wh... we can’t keep a mermaid—”
“She can grow legs for short periods when she needs to.” Like that makes it all okay. “What do you care? We’re not together anyway.”
“Sumi...” He doesn’t even have the words. “How... look, just because we date the wrong sex doesn’t mean we can date the wrong species!” Her expression clouds over, and he knows he’s said something wrong, but he doesn’t give her time to pick on it, just rushes on, “What are we going to tell the neighbours?”
“First of all, it’s not wrong; you’re an idiot. And we’ll say she’s a cousin. ...Who spends a lot of time in the washroom.”
“That’s—” He’s interrupted by the sound of dripping water—he turns away from Suman, back to the tub, where Rimjhim’s standing up on two pale legs. The tail’s gone, the scales gone. The shirt reaches down to her thighs, just barely hiding what Shardul doesn’t what to see. Otherwise, she’s naked. She steps over the rim, forming a puddle on the floor. And she walks right to them, practically knocking Shardul aside in her bold strut to Suman. She collects Suman’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and walks Suman out of the washroom.
They disappear into Suman’s bedroom, shutting the door, and Shardul doesn’t even want to know what they’re going to do or how that works—he didn’t understand how two women worked before, much less a half-fish.
The worst part is that he doesn’t have a hot merman to bring back to his room. Shardul sighs, alone.