Chapter 56: The Guilt & Fancy Flat
Back at home, Aeri stood in the kitchen, the clock ticking past 8 p.m, the room warm with the smell of sizzling food—some stir-fry she was whipping up, veggies popping in the pan, a pot of rice bubbling soft on the stove.
Music played from a little speaker on the shelf and she hummed along, her voice soft and happy, swaying her hips a little as she stirred the pan with a wooden spoon.
She glanced at the clock above the sink—8:03 p.m.—the red digits blinking steady, and paused, her spoon hovering over the pan. "Where’s Ezra?" she muttered to herself, her brow creasing a little, her humming fading out. "He should be home by now..." She tilted her head, picturing me walking through the door, kicking off my boots, grinning at her cooking like I always did and she sighed soft, turning back to the stove.
*Ring*—her phone buzzed loud on the counter, my name lighting up the screen—*Ezra*. She smirked, setting the spoon down with a soft *clink*, wiping her hands on a towel slung over her shoulder. "Speak of the little devil," she said, her voice playful, reaching for the phone quick as she picked it up.
"Hello, Ezra—where are you?" she asked, her tone light but curious, holding the phone to her ear with one hand, the other resting on the counter.
"Hey, Aeri," I said, my voice crackling through the line, a little forced but steady. "Actually, I’m at the office with Jonathan—some urgent work came up, so I won’t be coming home tonight." I kept it smooth, casual, leaning against a wall somewhere far from her.
"Ohh... I see..." she said, her voice dipping soft, a little sad creeping in. She always got like this when I was out late.
"Yeah... I’m sorry," I said, my tone softening, guilt gnawing at me as I gripped my phone tighter. "Please eat and sleep on time, okay? Don’t wait up or anything." I tried to sound caring, normal, like I wasn’t hiding a damn thing.
"Oh, okay, I will," she said, her voice picking up a bit, brushing off the disappointment like she always did. "Don’t worry about me," she added, then raised her tone sharp, like a mom scolding a kid. "And you—eat properly, alright? Don’t overwork yourself, Ezra, I mean it." She pointed a finger at nothing, her spoon back in hand now, waving it like I could see her through the phone.