Thanks for being decentfeels inadequate.That meant a lotfeels exposed. Silence, for now, feels safer.
The adrenaline has finally drained away, leaving something heavier behind. Uncertainty. Not fear exactly. Just the sense of standing on ground that hasn’t quite settled yet.
I fold the last T-shirt and stack it neatly.
“Well,” I tell Hadrian. “This is where we are.”
He blinks slowly.
“I agree,” I say. “Deeply unhelpful.”
I genuinely have no idea what happens next.
The doorbell rings.
I stare at it for a full second, because my life has recently developed a habit of escalating without warning.
Hadrian doesn’t so much as twitch. Curled on his rock, one foot hanging off the edge, mouth slightly open like a creature deeply committed to rest.
I cross the flat and press the intercom.
“Yes,” I say.
“It’s Tom,” his voice comes back. Careful. Tentative. “I was wondering if I could come up. No pressure at all. I can also leave immediately and pretend this was a very confident walk.”
I close my eyes.Of course it’s him.
“Give me a second,” I say.
I rest my forehead against the wall. One breath. Then another. I am a grown woman. I can answer my own door. I can face this infuriatingly amazing man.
I buzz Tom in.
Footsteps on the stairs. Measured. Polite. A man very aware he is entering emotional territory without a map.
There’s a knock.
I open the door.
He stands there holding a small paper bag like it contains either contraband or regret.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
He steps inside, pauses, scans the flat, the minor chaos, the lizard-shaped ornament currently masquerading as a living being, then holds the bag out.
“What’s that,” I ask.
“Cockroaches.”
I blink.
“For Hadrian,” he adds quickly. “Not from my restaurant. Absolutely not from my restaurant. These are shop-bought. Sealed. Reputable.”
I glance at Hadrian.
He does not stir. One eyelid remains firmly closed. A tiny toe flexes, then relaxes again.
