As I reached my apartment door, my gaze lingered on the closed door to my left, my neighbor's, where memories of the morning's encounter stirred unbidden. A fleeting smile touched my lips before I shook my head, brushing the thought aside, and stepped inside. The day had drained me, thanks to Sky's endless string of "side quests," which had me returning home well past my usual hour.
I headed straight for the fridge, pulling out a container of premade food and setting it in the microwave. While it hummed to life, I wandered onto the balcony, seeking solace under the night sky. The air was crisp and the stars shimmered in defiance of the veiling clouds. I leaned on the railing, letting the cool breeze tease away the day's weight as fragments of its events replayed in my mind.
"Hey there," came a voice from the left, soft and familiar.
I turned my head and saw Isabella standing on the other side of the partition, her silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of her balcony light.
"Hey," I replied, my voice instinctively softer.
"How was your first day? Embarrassing as hell?" she teased, her lips quirking in a knowing smile.
"Not quite," I answered, surprising myself with the honesty in my tone. "It was... weirdly fun. Kind of amazing, actually."
"Oh, nice to hear," she said, her expression warming. "By the way, what's that smell?"
The moment her words registered, I sniffed the air, panic hitting me as I remembered the food in the microwave. I rushed inside, only to find it hopelessly overcooked.
"Oh no," I groaned, staring at the charred remains.
"Need a hand?" Isabella's voice followed me, and before I could answer, she vaulted over the partition with an ease that both startled and amused me. It wasn't the first time she'd done this, but it still caught me off guard.
"It's just my dinner—well, what's left of it," I said with a sheepish laugh as I tossed the ruined meal into the trash.
She wrinkled her nose playfully. "Ew, you eat that stuff? No way. Let me whip up something decent for you."
Before I could protest, she tied her hair into a messy bun, the movement casual yet oddly captivating. Her oversized shirt rode up as she secured it, revealing the edge of snug, faded shorts beneath. For a moment, I found myself lost, not in the gesture but in her—the effortless way she took over my space, unbothered and utterly herself.
As I discarded the charred remnants of my dinner, Bella rolled up her sleeves, exuding an air of effortless confidence. "Alright, Marx," she said, her tone teasing, "let's salvage your evening. Grab a cutting board—we're cooking together."
I hesitated for a moment but found myself drawn into her energy. Soon, we stood side by side in the kitchen, a quiet rhythm building between us. The sound of knives against the cutting boards filled the space as we worked in surprising harmony. She chopped with an expert precision, her movements swift yet graceful. I matched her pace, peeling and slicing with a focus that surprised even me.
Our hands occasionally brushed as we reached for ingredients, and every now and then, I caught her glancing my way with a soft, amused smile. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and I couldn't help but return the look, feeling an unfamiliar warmth settle in my chest.
"You're not half bad," she remarked, her voice light but genuine.
"Likewise," I replied, smirking. "You didn't tell me you were a pro."
"Ah, there's a lot you don't know about me," she said, a playful edge to her words as she deftly tossed chopped vegetables into the pan.
At one point, my phone buzzed on the counter, jolting me from the moment. I glanced at the screen—Sky's name flashed across it with a string of texts. For a second, I debated answering, but the thought dissolved as quickly as it came. I locked the phone, setting it aside without a second thought, and excused myself to take a quick shower.
When I returned, the scent of something mouthwatering filled the apartment. Bella had not only finished cooking but had also set the small dining table with an almost meticulous care. Two plates sat waiting, steam rising from the dishes she'd prepared.
"I figured we'd eat together," she said casually, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink. "I hadn't eaten yet anyway."
"Looks like you've thought of everything," I said, sliding into the chair opposite her. For a moment, as we sat together, the soft glow of the kitchen light casting a warm hue over the scene, I had a strange thought: this feels like we're married.
She laughed softly as we began to eat, chatting about trivial things. The food was incredible, each bite bursting with flavor.
But as the meal went on, a drowsiness crept over me. My eyelids grew heavier, and Bella tilted her head, watching me with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
"Something wrong?" I managed, my voice sluggish.
She grinned, almost sheepishly. "Oh, just a little spice—well, technically poison. Just enough to build your tolerance, nothing dangerous. Promise."
My vision blurred as I stared at her, my mind struggling to process her words. "You… what?"
"Relax," she said, her voice soft and almost tender as she stood and moved closer. "It's a precaution. You'll thank me later."
Before I could respond, the world tilted, and darkness embraced me.