Kai’s rejection hung in the air like an unfinished brushstroke—a vivid hue denied its place on the canvas. My heart, that fickle artist, felt wounded. How could he not appreciate the transformation—the way I’d breathed life into his sterile abode?

His words echoed: “Please don’t change anything here. I want my place to be the same.” A plea wrapped in politeness, but it stung nonetheless. Old fart Kai—guardian of the mundane, curator of monotony—had no taste for my beautiful chaos.

Days slipped by, our conversations mere whispers in the hallway. I’d hoped for an apology, but that crocodile remained stoic. When two people shared a space, words became bridges—or barricades. So, I tried again:

“I’m sorry about the paintings. I can re-do the changes.”

And, predictably, Kai’s response: “Let it be.”

And then Ora’s message arrived, punctuating the monotony: “Happy birthday. Let’s meet up.” 

“Let’s meet after six,” I replied. 

The club pulsed with music, my friends a constellation of laughter. We danced, forgetting the world’s edges. But home awaited—an owl-eyed Kai, defying his usual early slumber.

I tiptoed past him, seeking water. And there—in the fridge—a chocolate cake. My heart hiccupped. Kai, the minimalist, had orchestrated this sweet surprise.

“Thank you,” I said, pulling out the cake.

Sana looked genuinely surprised. “Sorry?”

I devoured the cake, its sweetness a balm. The card read "Happy birthday sissy" Aera, my sister, had been here. She’d waited, leaving this confection behind. My embarrassment swirled like cream in coffee. “I’ll call Aera,” I mumbled.

Why did I put myself in this awkward situation? Oh, I am such a fool, my inner monologue whispered.

As I retreated to my room, Kai’s voice halted me:

“Sia, Happy Birthday!”

This time, my heart fluttered—a canvas of emotions. I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Thank you, Kai,” I whispered.