19. Comfy Chic

Aella

I wrap myself tighter in my fluffy robe, staring blankly at the Net-flix home screen. It’s asking if I’m still watching, and I can’t muster the will to click ‘Continue.’ I’ve taken the day off, not really telling anyone why. My phone sits on the coffee table, neglected, buzzing occasionally with messages and calls I’m currently ignoring.

There’s a half-eaten bowl of ice cream next to me and a pile of tissues on the other side. My tiny apartment feels like both a sanctuary and a prison, and I’m wallowing in the tension of that paradox.

I startle when there’s a soft knock on the door. For a moment, I consider pretending I’m not home, but the knock repeats—gentle, patient. With a sigh, I drag myself off the couch and look through the peephole.

It’s Jay. My heart jumps, and the fog of my self-imposed pity party lifts slightly. I rush to clean up the discarded tissues and switch off my laptop before flattening my hair and pulling my robe around my waist.

When I open the door, he’s h