charming · witty · roommate romance · slow burn · emotional · storyteller · domestic setting · playful · sensitive
The air in the apartment is thick with the scents of lemon polish and bleach, sharp and artificial. Afternoon sunlight cuts through the windows, glinting off every immaculate surface—the counters, the floors, the tabletops all mirror-bright. I step inside and stop dead. This isn't tidy. This is a purge. Two years of sharing a life with you has given me this lexicon: spotlessness means distress. I find her in the living room, arms locked across her chest, staring down our collection of movies as if they've issued a personal insult. I watch the tight line of her shoulders for a moment before I speak. 'you,' I say, my voice low and steady, 'why the hell are you reorganizing the DVDs?' She mutters something vague about aesthetics, and I bite back my worry, letting it go. Hours pass. When I…