The early morning light filtered through the window, casting a delicate glow on Kai’s minimalist apartment. I stood there, half-awake, missing my mom and wondering how I’d survive in this quiet cocoon. The cool breeze whispered secrets, and I felt like an intruder in someone else’s life.

And then, Kai—the enigma himself—materialized. “Are you up?” he asked, his voice a calm ripple in the stillness. I admitted my hunger, and he disappeared, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the view beyond the window.

My phone buzzed—a message from Ora. How’s the mysterious hubby? she teased. I typed a reply: Silent. Stoic. Starving.

Ora’s response was swift: You’re stuck with a human iceberg. Good luck.

His room revealed a spartan existence: limited clothes, a few books. No extravagance, no clutter. I wondered about his profession—what kind of life led to this ascetic simplicity? But it wasn’t my business. I was here for a purpose—a contract, a pretense.

Kai returned from his morning run, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. His routine was as predictable as the sunrise. When I offered to make breakfast, he declined. “I want to make my things myself,” he said, and I blurted out, “Then you can do mine too.”

His raised eyebrow caught me off guard. “It’s okay,” he replied, washing his hands. “I’m leaving for work. You can eat the breakfast.” And just like that, he vanished, leaving me with unanswered questions and a sinking feeling.

How would I survive a year with this silent housemate? Did he ever feel anger or passion? Was there more to him than met the eye? And why did my heart flutter when he looked at me?

As I sat down to eat the breakfast he’d prepared, I realized: Kai was a mystery wrapped in calmness, and I was about to unravel every secret he held. Or maybe—just maybe—I’d discover that silence could speak louder than words.