Make up your mind, Spitfire. Are you trying to get them together or not? Cause interrupting what could've been their first kiss doesn't sound helpful. Fickle feline.
I woke up to the sound of silence, the kind that didn’t feel peaceful, just off. My bed was cold on the other side, and the apartment felt emptier than usual. It wasn’t even that Ofelia had ever stayed over for more than a night. But after yesterday, after her text about Jane showing up at the hospital, I hadn’t seen her. And now, everything felt… tight.I rubbed a hand over my face and blinked against the morning light bleeding through the blinds. My phone sat face-down on the nightstand, as if it owed me something. I flipped it over.No new texts. No missed calls.She’d said she was okay. That she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “Security handled it,” she’d written, followed by one of those calm but clipped responses she used when she was under stress but pretending she wasn’t.I respected her independence. I did.But I also hated not being able to see her with my own eyes. Hated not being there. Hated the silence.I shuffled into the kitchen and flipped on the coffee mach
I left the hospital with my head high and my heels clicking, every step a declaration.Some people might’ve crumbled under the weight of a scene like that. But not me. I hadn’t caused a scene. I had delivered a message.Ofelia didn’t say anything clever. Didn’t rise to the challenge. Didn’t throw me out. She just sat there, trying to look calm and composed while her eyes screamed ‘rattled’. And when she picked up her phone? That was the moment I knew I’d won.She didn’t defend her turf. She called for backup.I didn’t need to stay and wait for security. That would’ve been messy. Undignified. No, I left exactly when I meant to. I gave her a taste of what she’s up against. What we’re up against.Because she isn’t just some girl Zach’s sleeping with, she’s a threat to everything I’ve built.People like Ofelia always think they’ve got something to prove. Some rags-to-respectability fantasy. But they never last. She’ll realize soon enough that she can’t keep up with Zach’s world—his real w
By the time I arrived at University Hospital, I had already received two texts from my supervising psychiatrist and a voicemail from one of the on-call residents regarding a med hold case that had gone awry overnight. Classic Wednesday. I changed into scrubs in under four minutes, shoved my hair into a semi-neat bun, and headed straight into rounds with a half-eaten protein bar in my hand and a pen already leaking in my pocket. But even as I scanned patient charts and reviewed medication adjustments, part of me wasn’t fully in the ward. Part of me was still on the couch last night, eating arroz con pollo with Zach and watching a ridiculous cooking show while Spitfire judged us from the windowsill. That wasn’t a fantasy. That was real. Messy, quiet, imperfect, and steady. When he had said, “It’s honestly the least I could do. I’m the one that psycho Barbie is stalking,” I wanted to laugh and punch a wall at the same time. But the way he’d looked at me right after? Solid. Unflinc
The coffee was garbage. Burnt, bitter, and sitting in the pot way longer than anything with caffeine in it should. I drank it anyway, because habit was stronger than taste buds most days. Across the table, Nas and Dez were in the middle of another battle over music. “Fleetwood Mac is universal,” Nas said, waving his phone like it carried a sacred relic. Dez made a face. “You’re eighty. No one wants breakup vibes in the middle of a Tuesday.” “It’s timeless.” Nas defended. “It’s depressing.” Dez rolled his eyes. I didn’t jump in. Normally, I would have. Normally, I’d have something to say to needle both of them, maybe suggest some truly chaotic playlist like pirate metal or sea shanties just to get a rise. But today I was somewhere else entirely. Ofelia’s bed. Ofelia’s skin. The way she had looked at me in the quiet hours between night and morning, when the world had narrowed down to just us. The weight of her arm across my chest, like I was something safe. Something chosen
Something was wrong. I knew it before the human even stirred. The air tasted different. Not danger exactly, but irritation. A whiff of floral intrusion layered with that same cheap perfume from the Move-In Incident. It made my whiskers twitch. My ears flattened for a moment, then rotated forward. Alert mode: engaged. From my nesting box in the corner, I lifted my head slowly, careful not to disturb Cloud, who had fallen asleep across my back like a limp sock. His siblings were equally useless, piled in a warm heap, twitching their tiny paws in some shared kitten dream. Not one of them noticed the shift in the atmosphere. Of course not. They were infants. Useless and soft and loud. But I noticed. I noticed how quiet the hallway had become. Ofelia stood from her spot on the couch, setting aside her laptop with a quiet thunk. Her brows furrowed. She had sensed it too, though I doubted she could name it. She walked toward the door on cautious feet, and that was when I slipped free from
I didn’t close the door right away. Zach had just left, his footsteps fading down the hall, and still I stood there, one hand on the doorknob, the other cradling my coffee like it could explain anything. The apartment felt quieter without him in it, not empty, just... less full. The smell of burnt toast and over-reheated empanadas still lingered in the air, accompanied by the faint sharpness of cheap coffee and cat fur. Domestic chaos. My normal. Except it wasn’t normal anymore. I leaned against the doorframe, forehead resting lightly against the wood. My coffee had gone lukewarm, but I didn’t move to reheat it. I just breathed and let the silence settle. Because what I felt in that moment wasn’t panic. Wasn’t guilt or exhaustion or the sense that something was spiraling. What I felt was wanted, not only for my brain, usefulness, or emotional labor. Not in the way guys flirt with you to prove something to themselves. Just… wanted. Full stop. And cared for. Zach had offered the Rin