Read What We Become :: Chapter 16

He woke up feeling more rested than he expected. For once, the alarm didn’t feel like an interruption. The room was cool, quiet, and still dim from the early light outside. He checked his phone out of habit. No new notifications—nothing from work, nothing from her. But it didn’t bother him. Friday had its own rhythm.

He stretched, got out of bed, and walked to the kitchen. He made coffee, toasted bread, and grabbed an apple from the counter. While he ate, he tried to mentally sort through the day—one meeting in the morning, two small tasks to finish, maybe a grocery run in the evening if he felt motivated.

When he stepped into the hallway, he heard the faint sound of someone locking their door. He looked up just in time to see her pulling her jacket zipper up, hair loosely tied, holding a travel mug in one hand and a tote bag in the other.

She saw him and blinked like she wasn’t expecting him this early.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning.”

She took a sip from her mug and winced. “Still too hot.”

“You keep doing that.”

“I keep believing it’ll magically cool down.” She paused, studying his face for a second. “You look less tired today.”

“Got decent sleep.”

“Same.” She adjusted her bag and started walking toward the stairs. He fell in beside her naturally.

As they reached the second floor landing, she said, “I have that nine-thirty call again. The dull one.”

“Good luck.”

“I’ll need it.” She nudged him lightly with her elbow. “What about you?”

“Ten o’clock meeting.”

“Ah. The fun stuff.”

They reached the lobby. The front door was propped open slightly, letting in a soft draft. Outside, the sky was bright but not harsh, the kind of morning that hinted at a warm afternoon.

She stepped out first. “Any plans after work?”

“Not yet.”

“Same.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “Might cook again. Not sure.”

“With or without suspicious eggs?”

“They’re behaving. I’ve decided to trust them.” She looked amused. “What about you? Eating real food today?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good.” She checked her watch. “I should run. The train’s usually packed on Fridays.”

“Go.”

She jogged a couple of steps backward before turning. “Don’t fall asleep in your meeting.”

“I won’t.”

“Debatable!” she called over her shoulder, already moving down the sidewalk.

He watched her disappear around the corner before heading in his own direction.

At the office, the morning moved quickly. The ten o’clock meeting went smoother than expected—short, clear, no unnecessary detours. He gave two updates, took notes on a follow-up task, and ended the call feeling more awake than before.

Around eleven, his phone buzzed.

*Survived the nine-thirty.*

He replied:

*Told you.*

*Barely. I deserve something for that.*

*Like what?*

*Bagel? Cookie? An award for emotional endurance?*

He typed:

*Cookie sounds reasonable.*

*Great. Now I want a cookie.*

He shook his head, amused, and went back to work.

By noon, the office grew louder—people making lunch plans, microwaves beeping, the usual Friday energy creeping in. He wasn’t hungry yet, so he walked outside for some air.

The weather had warmed just enough to feel comfortable. He leaned against a short brick wall near the plaza and checked his phone.

Another message appeared.

*Are you eating? Or are you “air counts as lunch”-ing again?*

He typed:

*I’ll grab something.*

*Good.*

She added a second message immediately after.

*I’m getting a sandwich. The kind that falls apart when you bite it but still tastes good.*

He replied:

*Solid choice.*

*Yes, I make excellent decisions.*

He didn’t argue.

He grabbed a quick lunch from a small corner shop, something simple—a turkey sandwich and chips. He ate at his desk, scrolling through emails he didn’t really care about. The afternoon slipped by quietly.

At two-thirty, she messaged again.

*Tomorrow we don’t have any calls, right?*

He checked his calendar.

*Right.*

*Good. I need a break from video faces.*

He laughed under his breath.

*Same.*

Another pause.

*You doing anything tonight?*

He thought about it.

*Not sure. Might cook.*

*Whoa. Big move.*

*I said “might.”*

*Fair.*

He set his phone down and finished the last of his tasks. Around five, people started packing up, chatting about weekend plans, debating whether they should go out or stay home. He shut down his laptop, grabbed his bag, and headed for the train.

The ride home was quiet. When he entered the lobby, the building manager waved at him but didn’t say anything. He climbed the stairs.

On the third floor landing, he heard a familiar sound—footsteps, light but quick. She turned the corner carrying a brown paper bag with a bakery logo on it.

He raised a brow. “Cookie?”

She held the bag up proudly. “Two cookies. Important distinction.”

“You bought them for surviving the call?”

“And for morale.” She stopped next to him. “Want one?”

He considered it, then nodded once. “Sure.”

She opened the bag and held it out. He took a chocolate chip cookie, still slightly warm.

“Fresh,” he said.

“Yep.” She broke off a piece of her own cookie. “Reward system working so far.”

They walked up the last few steps toward their floor.

“How was your afternoon?” she asked.

“Pretty normal.”

“Same here. I almost fell asleep at one-thirty, but the promise of cookies kept me alive.”

“That’s one way to stay productive.”

“Don’t judge me,” she said, but she was smiling.

At her door, she paused. “Cooking tonight?”

“Maybe. If I’m not lazy.”

“Being lazy is respectable,” she said. “I support that.”

“What about you?”

“Leftover pasta.” She made a face. “Again.”

He chuckled. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need emotional strength.”

She unlocked her door but didn’t step in yet.

“Oh—by the way,” she said. “If you want to walk later, I might be up for it. Weather’s nice.”

“Just text me.”

“Will do.”

She went inside. He walked to his own apartment, set his bag down, changed clothes, and thought briefly about cooking… then immediately lost the motivation.

He ordered takeout instead.

Dinner arrived quickly. He ate while leaning on the kitchen counter, enjoying the quiet. When he finished cleaning up, he checked his phone.

A message waited.

*I survived the pasta. Barely.*

He typed:

*Good job.*

*Walk?*

He grabbed his hoodie.

*Yeah. Ready.*

Five minutes later, they met in the hallway. She wore the same light jacket from the night before, hair tied a little loosely.

She raised a hand in a small wave. “Let’s go.”

They walked outside into the cool early-evening air. The streets were busier than yesterday—people heading home, lines forming outside a few restaurants, music drifting faintly from somewhere down the block.

She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. “Feels like Friday.”

“It does.”

“I’m glad the week’s almost over,” she said. “It felt long.”

“Yeah.”

“But not terrible,” she added. “Just long.”

They passed a couple waiting for takeout, a guy locking up a bicycle, and a pair of teenagers laughing loudly about something neither of them could hear.

She glanced over at him. “Today felt easier.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It did.”

They walked another block in silence—not uncomfortable, just quiet.

When they looped back toward their building, she slowed her pace slightly.

“Thanks,” she said. “For walking with me. Again.”

“Anytime.”

She smiled, small and familiar now.

Inside the building, they climbed the stairs together. At their floor, she paused in front of her door like she always did.

“Have a good night,” she said. “And don’t forget to eat real breakfast tomorrow. No excuses.”

“I won’t.”

She pointed at him like she didn’t fully believe him. “We’ll see.”

Then she slipped inside her apartment.