Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Ex-Change: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

(POV – James) There are two kinds of people in the world: those who get worked up over the smallest setbacks, and those who just go with the flow.I like to think I fall into the second group.So, when I received a call this morning notifying me that my apartment was being temporarily switched, my response was simple:“Sure, why not?”The leasing agent seemed almost… relieved. Probably because they had just finished their conversation with Clarice.I can’t help but smirk. It’s been ages since I last saw my ex, but I’d wager she’s currently in a heated discussion with someone on the other end of that line.Still, I’m not entirely inconsiderate—I did ask who I’d be swapping with before I agreed. And when I heard the name, I did precisely what any reasonable person would do.I chuckled.Because of course, this would happen to us.Clarice and I had been polar opposites from our very first meeting—her with meticulously organized calendars, and me with my chaotic sketchbooks. Yet, despite

(POV – James) The very moment I step into Clarice’s apartment, I know I don’t belong here. Not in a tragic, existential crisis way—more in a -this place is so pristine that I might actually be violating some sort of air quality standard just by breathing in it- way. I set my suitcase down and take a slow look around, half expecting to hear a museum tour guide whispering facts about the rare and endangered species of throw pillows she has arranged symmetrically on her couch. Everything is perfectly placed. The bookshelves are color-coded. The kitchen counter has exactly zero clutter. The coffee table has a decorative tray with an unlit candle, a tiny succulent, and a stack of coasters that look like they’ve never been touched. I open the fridge, just out of curiosity. Of course. Perfectly arranged groceries, neatly labeled containers, and a

(POV – James)I knew Clarice was organized, but this?I don’t think I’ve ever seen a place so well—precise.I stand at the front door for a second, just staring. Her apartment is like something out of one of those design magazines you find in hotel lobbies, the ones you flip through for inspiration but never actually live in.Everything is in its place. The furniture, the bookshelves, the art on the walls—it’s as if she hired a personal stylist just to make everything look perfectly curated. Even the throw pillows on the couch are arranged like they’ve been carefully rotated just to maintain their “fluff.”Who does that?I chuckle to myself, shaking my head.I toss my bag on the perfectly organized kitchen counter, and that’s when I catch myself:I’m laughing. Laughing.She’s such a freak. A beautiful, efficient, ridiculously precise freak.It’s the kind of precision that makes me feel like I should be in a museum or something, not her ap

(James’s POV)The moment Clarice slams the door in my face, I have to stifle a laugh. Some things never really change. I knock again, hoping she’ll come to her senses. “Rice.” “Go away.” I catch a faint whiff of something… smoky. “Do you smell something burning?” Silence. Then, muffled through the door: “NO.” That’s it—I can’t hold it in anymore. I laugh. Loud enough to annoy her, which only makes it better. “You know, if you were trying to impress me with your culinary skills,” I call through the door, “this is quite the tactic.” The door swings open. Clarice stands there, arms crossed, glaring up at me. And for just a second—just a second—I completely forget about the smoke and the charred whatever-it-is, and the fact that we haven’t seen each other in over a year. Because there she is. Hair pulled up in that messy bun she always does when she’s cooking. A smudge of something—flour? Salt?—on her cheek

(Clarice’s POV) I barely manage to take three steps into my apartment—James’s apartment—before my phone starts buzzing. I don’t even need to check who’s calling. There’s really only one person who senses only my most inconvenient moments, as if she has a sixth sense for when I need chaos in my life. “Anna,” I say, kicking off my shoes and flopping onto James’s couch. “This better be important.” “Oh, you can bet your ass it is,” she replies, her voice practically bubbling with excitement. “I just wrapped up my lesson plan for the week, and now I’m officially free to bother you.” Anna and I have been best friends since Sophomore year at college. She took me to my first party, learned how to do make-up via my face, slept in my bed through all her heart breaks, lived vicariously through mine and she hasn't been able to do without me since. Everybody knew that Anna was crazy. That's why it came as a shock to everyone else to find out that she had wanted to teach kids all her li