Althea squinted at her computer screen until the words started to blur.
Her office was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of evening silence that hummed with fluorescent lights and made the ticking clock sound like a taunt. Everyone else had left an hour ago, leaving the open floor a graveyard of abandoned desks and potted plants that leaned toward the windows like they were trying to escape.
She dropped her pen with a dramatic sigh, leaning back in her chair. Her mind kept drifting. Past the spreadsheets, past the office walls, toward the echo of last night.
Her phone sat face down beside her laptop. With a hesitant hand, she flipped it over.
No messages.
Her heart sank a little. She'd sent Max a couple of texts throughout the day. Nothing dramatic, just small check-ins.
Did you eat?
Meeting went okay?
I'm going to be late.
No reply. No read receipts either. Althea bit on her bottom lip, leaning her forehead on the cool desk surface. The logical part of her said he was probably just busy, or sleeping, or had left his phone somewhere. But the small, insecure part; the one that had fallen asleep holding his hand like it was a lifeline; whispered that maybe he was still upset. She hated that thought.
A ping from her email snapped her back into focus, and she pushed herself upright. One more document. One more report. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, then froze.
No. She couldn't do this tonight. Not with her head this loud.
Grabbing her bag, she shut down the computer and made her way to the elevator. Her heels clicked softly against the empty hallway, echoing in the hollow space of the building. By the time she reached the lobby, the sky outside had already dipped into a deep indigo. Streetlights cast long shadows across the parking lot, and her reflection in the glass doors looked small and tired.
By the time Althea reached the apartment, she was already bracing for more silence. She unlocked the door slowly, expecting to step into the same heavy emptiness that had met her the night before.
But this time, the air was different. Warm. Something smelled… incredible.
Althea stared. She almost checked the apartment number.
She blinked and stepped further inside. The living room lights were on, a soft glow illuminating the dining table. And there, laid out like something from a cozy family dinner ad, was a full spread of food.
A steaming pot of soup, fresh bread, grilled vegetables, and something that smelled suspiciously like garlic butter chicken. A small vase of flowers sat at the center, lopsided but earnest, as though someone had made a last-minute attempt to make things look… nice.
Althea dropped her bag by the door, stunned.
"You're home," a voice said from the kitchen doorway.
Max stood there, leaning on the frame, an apron loosely tied over his shirt. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered not long ago, and the faintest hint of a sheepish smile tugged at his mouth.
Althea just stared for a moment. "…Did you... cook?" He nodded, glancing toward the table.
"I figured I owed you dinner," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "And… an apology."
Her heart tugged. He crossed the room slowly, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be closer yet. "I was… out of line last night. I shouldn't have snapped at you. None of what I was feeling had anything to do with you, and I took it out on you anyway."
Althea shook her head. "I—"
"No," he said gently, stopping in front of her. His voice was low, steady, but raw around the edges. "You didn't do anything wrong. I need you to know that."
The sincerity in his eyes made her chest ache. For a second, all she could do was nod. "…Thank you."
A small, almost shy smile ghosted across his face. "So… dinner?"
They ate together at the small table, and for once, it felt like the apartment wasn't haunted by tension. Max kept stealing glances at her as she tasted everything, waiting for a verdict like a kid who'd just presented a science project.
Althea dipped a piece of bread into the soup and took a thoughtful bite. "…This is really good." He exhaled like he'd been holding his breath. "Thank God."
She grinned and shook her head. "What, were you expecting me to spit it out dramatically?"
"I was preparing for it," he said with a smirk. "Would've taken it like a man, though."
"You would've sulked for a week."
"Maybe two."
Lilith hopped onto an empty chair and peered at the chicken with laser focus. Max pointed a finger at her. "No. Absolutely not. This is for humans only." The cat slowly blinked at him like she was already planning her heist.
Halfway through dinner, he admitted, "The flowers were a last-minute thing. I panicked and grabbed the first ones at the store. A kid tried to hand me a balloon too. I almost took it."
Althea smiled into her soup. "A balloon would've been cute."
"No," he said flatly. "Then the cashier would think I'm celebrating my own apology. That's… weird."
The banter slipped between them easily, and for the first time in days, Althea felt the knot in her chest loosen. By the time they finished, the kitchen smelled like garlic and butter, and the flowers had leaned even more dramatically to one side.
Max leaned back in his chair and said softly, "I mean it, Althea. I'm sorry."
She looked at him, really looked, and saw the man who had walked out last night with his shoulders heavy, and the same man who had quietly filled a table with warm food tonight like an unspoken olive branch.
Her voice came out soft. "I know."
After dinner, they drifted to the sofa. Lilith curled up on the armrest, purring like the night itself had finally exhaled.
Max stretched an arm across the back of the couch, his shirt a little rumpled now, his hair falling into his eyes. Althea sat beside him, tucking her legs under herself. The TV played something neither of them were watching.
"Are we chill now?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, a faint chuckle on her lips. "We're chill."
Max's eyes softened. He looked almost… relieved. Althea hesitated, her hand twitching slightly where it rested on her lap. For a moment, she almost reached for him, almost leaned into his shoulder, almost wrapped her arms around him in a hug she didn't realize she needed to give.
But she stopped herself. Instead, she smoothed the blanket over her knees, her voice quiet. "Thank you… for this." He studied her for a long second, as though he'd noticed that almost-hug anyway. Then he nodded, eyes gentle.
The silence between them wasn't heavy this time. It was warm.
End of Chapter 47.