Ch.10
Life was, in essence, a routine. One woke up, got dressed, went to work, came home, and slept. Sometimes, it could be completed in total silence, like watching a TV show mute.

If talking too much would give her a sore throat, Cristina was beginning fear that talking too little would put her vocal cord to sleep.

Through the steam engulfing the entrance of the bathroom, Cristina realized that Burke was already in bed. Instead of paying any attention to her, he stayed focused on the book he was reading.

As she dried her hair with a towel, a bright red mark on the calendar caught her attention.

Did Burke really think there was no better way to inform her of the date of the surgery than that?

Without saying a word, Cristina crept out to the living room and picked up the phone.

It wasn't deliberate, but her voice was particularly loud and clear in the quiet apartment.

"Hi, this is Cristina Yang. I would like to take a day off on Wednesday… Yes, thank you."

Tossing the phone on the couch, Cristina held her breath as she sat down, her back facing the bedroom. Part of her wished Burke would come out and talk to her, but a bigger part of her was regretting her action as she counted to 10— Burke did not do anything to acknowledge her effort. To make it worse, he turned off the bedroom light.

Lying down on the couch, with two cushions in her arms, Cristina shifted her attention to the ceiling.

Exactly a day had passed since he shut her out of the bedroom, and there she was, sleeping on the couch again.

Nothing seemed to have changed. The pillow and the blanket she used the night before were neatly folded and placed on the coffee table. She was still feeling empty and at a loss.

The only difference was that this time she chose the couch. Nobody threw her out--The door was open, but she was not going to go in.

Stretching her neck to take a peep into the inside of the bedroom, Cristina sighed. How long would this war of silence last?

The couch wasn't at all uncomfortable, or else George wouldn't have spent a week and a half at their place. But a couch that was half the size of their bed was too big for Cristina when she was on her own.

As the blanket got dragged closer to her chin, Cristina finally forced her eyes to close. There was nothing more to do. After the sleep, it would be another day. The whole routine of life still had to repeat itself.

There's still a game waiting for her.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The predictability of her behavior fascinated him. From the minute Burke opened the door to their apartment until Cristina finally fell asleep, every step was enacted the way she would normally behave.

Wasn't she getting a bit too comfortable with the situation? Watching her walk out of the bedroom, sitting down on the other side of the bed, rubbing her hair with the towel, it was as if nothing had happened between them.

He couldn't remember what he was reading, as he secretly listened to every sound Cristina made. He was hoping to be surprised, but he didn't expect her to suddenly jump off the bed and walk away.

Why couldn't she say something after she saw what he wrote on the calendar?

Burke put down his book and rested his head on his left hand. It was like fishing; after one had given something, there was nothing more to do but wait.

The phone conversation startled him. He was glad Cristina wasn't in the room, or else she would see the cocky smile that covered every corner of his face.

Why hadn't he thought of that? Of course Cristina wasn't going to do nothing. The calmness in her tone amused him. Had it not been the obstinacy still residing in him, Burke might have broken the silence.

Waiting to see if she would come back to the room after the call, Burke felt that every piece of his muscles tightened. Every inch of it yearned to feel the gentle touch of the woman in the living room again.

The bedroom was so quiet that Burke could hear his own heartbeat, from leaping quickly because of his overly optimistic anticipation of reconciliation, to a heavy pattern of dejection once more. If she could make the call, why couldn't she walk back in and talk to him?

After the seconds hand had travelled around the clock for one more time, Burke turned the switch of the lamp.

Listening to the ticking of the clock, Burke recalled the sleepless night he just had.

It was the same bed he had been sleeping in for years, but he felt like he was in a hotel room, sleeping in a stranger's bed.

No matter how hard he tried to sleep, there was no way to keep his eyes shut. Another day had passed, he couldn't keep on not sleeping.

As if his body could read his mind, his legs moved steadily towards the living room couch, repeating the same chain of actions he operated a day ago.

It was another concession made, but one that would at least keep him warm and snug for a night.

Last night, he lifted her up from the kitchen floor to the couch; now he was bringing her back to his bed, with a smirk that nearly went unnoticed in the dark.

The game could always wait until tomorrow.