But all we got was silence, a faint squeak, and what sounded like a tiny mouse trying to order soup.
After further investigation, it has been confirmed: Salma's throat has officially gone on strike. No warning. No two-week notice. Just... gone.
The cute voice? Temporarily out of service.
The arguing ability? Critically impaired.
The yelling at Kossay? Postponed until further notice.
damage assessment
Throat Status Report
It's worse than it looks. And it looks bad.
Condition
Sore throat. The betrayal kind.
Pain level
Every swallow is a personal attack.
Voice
Currently sounds like a dying Wi-Fi router.
Volume
Went from surround sound to airplane mode.
Swallowing
Every sip of water feels like swallowing a cactus.
Talking
Attempted. Regretted. 0/10 experience.
Dramatic level
High. But honestly? Justified this time.
Soup consumed
Not enough. Never enough.
The throat has filed a formal complaint against cold weather, air conditioning, and whatever she ate last.
Things Salma Can No Longer Do
A growing list of casualties
🗣
Talk Communication now limited to aggressive staring and texting in all caps.
😡
Yell at Kossay She tried. It came out as a whisper. He's never been safer.
✊
Threaten with full power The tiny hands are still active, but without the voice they're 80% less scary. Which means they're now at 2%.
🎵
Sing in the shower The shower is grateful. The neighbors are celebrating.
💬
Win arguments She can still win by typing. But it's not the same and she knows it.
🍔
Eat anything fun Currently limited to soup and sadness. Everything else burns.
📱
Send voice notes Kossay's phone storage has never been this free.
😌
Sleep peacefully Every swallow wakes her up. Her throat has no concept of rest.
On the bright side: this is the longest Kossay has gone without being yelled at. He's thriving. He sends his condolences.
🧡
Okay, being nice now.
Temporarily. Don't get used to it.
I know a sore throat sounds small to everyone who doesn't have one. But to the person who has one? It's everything. Every word hurts. Every meal is a negotiation. Every morning you wake up hoping it's better, and every morning your throat says "lol no."
You don't have to talk. You don't have to explain. You don't have to pretend you're fine while swallowing feels like sandpaper. Just rest.
And for the record — I miss the voice. Even the version that yells at me. Especially that one, actually. The world is too quiet without you being loud in it.
Prescribed by Dr. Kossay (not a real doctor)
✔ Warm soup. Then more soup. Then soup again.
✔ Honey + lemon. The classic. It works. Drink it.
✔ No talking. Doctor's orders. (Enjoy the silence, Kossay.)
✔ Warm blanket. Non-negotiable.
✔ Zero guilt about canceling everything today.
✔ One person checking on you whether you reply or not.
✔ That person is me. I'm not going anywhere.
— Kossay, patiently waiting for the voice to come back so he can get yelled at again