Alina was still in the room when Kai returned from the office. She stood near the far corner, phone raised above her head, rotating slowly like a human antenna. Her brows were drawn together in concentration, lips pressed thin as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
This makes no sense, she thought. It was working five minutes ago. She took two steps toward the window and lifted the phone higher, stretching her arm until it ached. Nothing. The screen remained stubbornly uncooperative. She turned slightly, angled the device, tilted her head, then turned back again. Still nothing. She sighed and lowered the phone, staring at it as if it had personally betrayed her.
Downstairs, Kai entered the house with the dull exhaustion that came from a long day of dealing with people he didn't like and problems he didn't create. He didn't pause in the living room. Didn't glance toward the stairs. He dropped his keys into the bowl near the entrance, loosened his tie as he climbed up, and disappeared into his room.
A few minutes later, he emerged changed—no sharp lines or pressed fabric now, just a plain T-shirt clinging slightly to his shoulders and track pants worn soft with use. He ran a hand through his hair once, exhaled, and headed straight for the kitchen.
Hunger had a way of simplifying his priorities. He opened the fridge, scanned its contents with the practiced efficiency of someone who cooked often, and pulled out vegetables without hesitation. The chopping board followed. Knife. Pan. Oil.
The moment his hands began to work, the rest of the world faded. The knife moved in steady, precise motions, slicing vegetables into neat, even pieces. He measured spices without looking, relying on instinct rather than spoons. Everything he did was deliberate, controlled, almost rhythmic.
Upstairs, Alina gave up on the room. She stepped into the hallway, phone raised again, walking slowly as if each step might make the signal appear. She turned near the staircase, paused, lifted the phone higher, then frowned.
Seriously? She descended the stairs with one arm stretched skyward, eyes locked on the screen, entirely unaware of how ridiculous she looked.
Kai didn't hear her. Alina, however, saw him the moment she reached the bottom. She stopped. He stood at the stove, slightly turned, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms flexing as he worked. Steam curled faintly from the pan. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over him, catching the concentration in his posture, the calm confidence in the way he moved.
For a moment, hunger wasn't the only thing she noticed. She leaned against the banister, watching him in silence. He looked… competent. Dangerously so. She stepped into the kitchen, phone still in hand, attention divided between the screen and the unexpected sight of him cooking like he knew exactly what he was doing.
"Finally, you're here," she said. "I was really hungry."
Kai's hand paused mid-motion. He hadn't turned. Hadn't looked at her. But something in his shoulders stiffened. She walked closer and placed her phone on the counter, sliding onto the stool opposite the stove as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
"The breakfast you made this morning wasn't enough," she added casually.
Kai blinked. Breakfast? His brow creased slightly as his mind replayed the morning in sharp detail. He remembered waking early. Cooking for himself. Setting the plate aside while he grabbed something from the other room. And then—
Oh. He remembered coming back to an empty plate. He remembered her, unapologetic, chewing thoughtfully as it had never occurred to her that the food wasn't hers. He tightened his grip on the knife. So she had eaten his breakfast, and now she was complaining. He said nothing, resumed chopping, jaw set.
Alina watched him, oblivious to the storm brewing quietly across the counter. Her gaze followed the movement of his hands, the clean lines of his technique. Each slice was identical. Each movement is efficient. She tilted her head.
"You cook like a professional," she said.
Kai didn't respond. The silence stretched. She shrugged, then suddenly remembered her phone. She picked it up and lifted it directly in front of her face, holding it upright, arm extended.
Kai glanced sideways. And froze. The angle. The way she was holding it. The timing. His eyes narrowed slightly. Is she— He turned his head away just as she adjusted the phone's position. His stomach dropped. She's taking pictures.
He bent down to open the lower cupboard, pretending to look for something. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. The phone shifted downward. He straightened abruptly.
Alina climbed onto the stool, lifting the phone higher. Kai's pulse ticked up. Unbelievable. He turned toward the sink, deliberately facing away from her. Behind him, Alina lowered the phone and frowned at the screen. Why does it disappear every time I move?
Kai washed his hands longer than necessary, buying time. Then he turned back slightly. The phone came up again. His jaw clenched. She's definitely doing this on purpose.
He reached for a spice jar on the far counter, stepping sideways. The phone tilted sideways. He paused. Slowly, carefully, he shifted his position again. The phone followed. His movements became cautious now, calculated. Her movements mirrored them perfectly.
Kai's mind raced. What does she think this is? Some cooking reel? Is she posting this? He grabbed a spoon and held it up, blocking half his face. Alina leaned forward slightly, squinting at her screen.
Come on… just one bar. She murmured
Kai lowered the spoon. The phone lowered. He raised an eyebrow. He stepped back. The phone came up. He leaned forward. The phone leaned forward. This was no longer a coincidence. He cleared his throat loudly. Alina didn't look up.
"Do you… need something?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
She waved one hand dismissively, eyes still glued to the screen. "No, no. Go on." That was it. That sealed it. She didn't even deny it.
Kai turned fully away from her, back straight, shoulders squared, clearly trying to deny her a good angle. Alina sighed and lifted the phone higher. Kai shut his eyes for half a second. I live with a menace.
He moved to the far end of the counter, opened a drawer, pretended to search for something he already knew wasn't there. The phone followed. He crouched. She leaned over the counter. He stood. She stood on the stool.
Kai turned suddenly, catching her mid-motion—phone held up, arm extended, face intensely focused. They locked eyes. For three seconds, neither of them moved. Then Alina slowly lowered the phone, expression puzzled. Kai stared at her.
"…Are you done?" he asked flatly.
She blinked. "Done with what?"
He gestured vaguely toward the phone. "That."
She looked at the screen, then back at him. "I'm not—"
Her sentence cut off as the screen finally flickered to life. One bar. Her face lit up. "Oh! There it is." She lifted the phone again.