Isabella's new video reached twenty thousand views in two days. It was a review on the newest spin-off novel and it gained some traction since nobody else was doing novel reviews.
Isabella sat at Owen's computer, refreshing the video page to see the updated view count. It was Monday and Owen was back from work, the door creaking and the scent of oranges flooding in. His hair wet, he dried it with a white towel.
"You're back," Isabella said, unable to hide her excitement. "Hey, look, look. Four thousand likes. That's an excellent ratio." That was Isabella's version of squealing, smiling widely and speaking in a tone full of thrill.
"Give me a second." Since he was fresh out of the shower and bathing in the wonderful warmth, he was half-listening. He didn't have his shirt on either so walked to his closet to put on a tight black muscle shirt. He had just returned to work, his muscles straining through the material. One leg on the chair, Isabella watched and waited for him to join her in being glued to the screen.
"Woah," Owen remarked as he put his hands in his pockets and leaned forward. "Yeah, that's…should we make this—"
"A series? That was what I was thinking," Isabella said. "Like…people know about the novels but I'm certain a lot of them haven't read it. If we go search…yep, no one has summed it up like I have."
Owen smiled down at her. "Good job," he said, running a hand through her brown hair. The texture was smooth so it was simple and pleasant. He found her leaning into it and he lightly scratched her scalpel in the way that he knew she liked it. "Your hair got longer," he said, noting the way her hair lightly touched her shoulders. Her bangs were on the longer side too.
"Should I cut it?"
"I like it."
"Then I'll keep it," Isabella said, closing her eyes. Suddenly, he stopped stroking her.
"Alright then." Isabella let out a small sound as he picked her up, took back his seat, and dropped her down onto his lap. "This is more comfortable, I think."
"Your wrist…?"
"Way more comfortable," he insisted.
Isabella huffed, leaning back on him and pretending to think. "Hm…I think so too." Isabella was by no means a small woman but she was still almost a head shorter than Owen which made for a perfect fit. The two stayed there and edited together for a whole hour. Lots of discussion flowed as Isabella learned to edit better and better. It quickly became apparent to him that she was much more naturally talented when it came to computer stuff. She caught on to his lessons fast and didn't need to be told twice.
"So…"
"So?"
Owen snickered, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her back. Tucked under his chin, Isabella blinked and asked, "What's up?"
"Nothing. Just thought that we should really get you a new keyboard."
"Ah, yeah."
"What? Did you find my computer much better?"
"Yes," she said without hesitating. "It's a thirteenth generation i7, of course it's better. My computer takes forever to process a video."
"Do you want to switch set-ups?"
"You'd do that?"
"Why wouldn't I do that?"
"Well…" Isabella trailed off, thinking. "I appreciate the offer but I'm okay. I plan to build my own PC once we get accepted for monetization."
"Understood. That means we can celebrate another way."
"Celebrate? Er, Owen, shouldn't we be smarter with our spending habits?"
"We'll be fine." He began stroking her hair. "I have retirement savings, remember?"
"You've been using an awful lot of it," she pointed out. "How much do you have left?"
"About nine thousand left."
Isabella exhaled. "...we really need to stop being impulsive buyers. All of us."
"Can you quit Mountain Pew? That would help."
Isabella froze. "A-about the celebration…"
Owen grinned. Isabella was too easy and he stroked her hair with more affection. He loved her so, so much. Whatever flaws she had were just the cherry on top. Little quirks of the woman whose very being he loved.
To celebrate, Owen went out and bought a cheap keyboard for her. Worth ten dollars, wireless, and inferior to her previous keyboard by leaps and bounds. Isabella stayed at home waiting patiently for the gift and she wasn't disappointed. She gave him a smile as she took the box and dashed to her room. She, while having high standards, was very rational. She didn't mind the cheapness one bit when she knew finances were tough.
He was glad she was so understanding. Once things were a bit better, he planned to help buy all the PC parts she wanted. She deserved it for how hard she worked.
Because of his wrist injury, she had even begun to do some of the editing. Much of it consisted of him being behind her and guiding her but it was still her doing the clicking, dragging, and decision-making. She never took breaks—unless it was Sunday. But Sundays didn't count.
Throughout the week, Owen would come back to work to see Isabella working hard. Today, on Thursday, he went back and smelled oranges. She had just taken her multi-hour-long bath and left the door slightly open, exposing her concentration. Owen smiled and went to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.
"Shit…!" Owen hissed as he washed his hands. The large spots on his wrist had gone from purple to black. It didn't make sense, it was like it was getting worse. By dumping it in cold water, the pain numbed. However, he knew it was a temporary solution.
Whatever the ghost did to his wrist, it wasn't normal. He swore under his breath, alone in his pain. He couldn't let anyone hear. He couldn't be weak.