Three Years on Tiptoe, I'm Done Trying to Fit Into His World

The faucet was still running.

I stood on my tiptoes to reach the handle, but my sleeve brushed against the countertop, and cold water ran down my wrist and into my sleeve.

It washed away the last bit of hope I had been holding onto.

Zavier Grant stood in the doorway, his tone impatient.

"It's only a few inches. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it?"

"Six inches."

I turned off the faucet. When I lowered my heels, my calves were already trembling from the strain.

"The bathroom vanity was supposed to be 31 inches high, according to the plans. Now it's 37 inches. The closet, upper cabinets, and entryway hooks have all been raised, too."

Zavier looked up.

"You actually measured all that?"

"This is where I'll be living."

I spent more than a dozen late nights refining the original design.

I visited seven showrooms just to get the 31-inch vanity height right. I put everything from the tiles and lighting strips to the cabinetry into spreadsheets and checked each item off one by one.

But toward the end of construction, I had been working overtime nonstop to cover the renovation costs, so I left Zavier in charge of overseeing the work.

The construction group had only shared partial photos, so I didn't realize until today that every measurement I had circled in red had been changed.

"I can just get things down for you from now on."

Zavier said it so casually that, for a moment, I was taken back to three years ago.

Back then, the countertops in our old apartment had been too high. Zavier had borrowed tools and stayed up all night adjusting every shelf in the kitchen cabinets. He had even cut the legs of the desk shorter.

He had told me that, in our future home, everything would be built to my measurements. He would never make me stand on tiptoe to accommodate anything.

But now, he had given me a home where I needed a step stool just to wash my hands or hang up my clothes.

Then he told me he could help out occasionally.

"Zavier, I don't want to have to ask for help every time I need to reach something in my own home."

"It's just a few step stools. How much could they possibly cost?"

Zavier sidestepped the issue.

Outside, the sky had gone completely dark, but the motion-sensor lights in the living room still hadn't come on.

I walked to the center of the room and spoke to the smart speaker.

"Turn on the living room lights."

"Voice recognition failed. Please try again."

I repeated the command, but it still failed.

Xyla Lane coughed softly.

"Turn on the living room lights."

The lighting strips throughout the house came on one after another, and even the curtains automatically slid open.

The fading evening light spilled through the windows. Xyla stood at the very center of the light, unmistakably the lady of the house.

"Welcome home, Xyla."

When the mechanical voice came on, the room fell silent for a moment.

I looked at Zavier, but he avoided my gaze.

Xyla blinked at me with wide, glistening eyes, looking utterly innocent.

"Natalia, don't overthink it. Zavy asked me to help test the system two days ago. He must have forgotten to remove my access.

"Zavy, you should remove my access now, before she gets upset again."

Zavier reached for my hand.

"Everyone's here tonight. Don't let something this small ruin the evening. I'll add your voice to the system tonight."

I pulled my hand away.

"Replace the furniture. Remove her access from the system, then register my voice."

Zavier's expression immediately hardened.

"Can you stop making such a big deal out of this? The custom furniture has already been installed. Tearing everything out and starting over would cost at least tens of thousands of dollars more."

"But I paid for most of the renovation upfront."

"You paid for it, but Xyla and I put our time into it too. We can't tear the whole house apart just because it's inconvenient for you."

The man standing in front of me suddenly felt like a stranger. Even in the middle of summer, a chill ran through me.

Footsteps sounded outside the door.

A few friends who had come to see the new house came in with bottles of wine in hand to celebrate the housewarming.

"This house has such a grand, elegant design. Those photos Xyla posted look so classy."

"Look at those upper cabinets. You'd have to be pretty tall to reach them."

When they noticed the front of my shirt was soaked, someone snickered.

"Hey, Natalia, if you can't reach the faucet, don't strain yourself. I'll get you a little step stool tomorrow!"

Zavier pulled me aside and lowered his voice.

"They didn't mean any harm. Don't embarrass Xyla. She's gone out of her way to help with all of this."

He had considered Xyla's feelings at every turn, yet he had never once stopped to consider mine.

"Zavy, how do I open these motorized curtains? Show me!"

"I'm coming!"

Zavier turned and walked away without hesitation.

I picked up the keys from the entryway cabinet and hesitated.

Then the mechanical voice sounded again.

"Welcome home, Xyla."

I walked out the door, leaving behind the house that had been designed for someone else.