Noah groaned dramatically, swaying slightly as both women stared at him expectantly. "Okay, okay—why do I feel like I'm being interrogated? I was gonna introduce you anyway." He threw his hands up, flashing his signature grin.
He gestured toward the woman at his side. "Esmé, meet my lovely sister—Seraphina. Or mostly known as Sera." His words were slightly slurred, but the fondness in his voice was unmistakable.
Seraphina gave Esmé a quick, assessing glance before offering a polite nod. "Nice to meet you."
Esmé smiled, playing along. "Nice to meet you too."
Noah turned to his sister with drunken enthusiasm. "And this—this is Esmé. The pretty girl I met at the grocery store."
Seraphina raised a brow. "The grocery store, huh? Classic."
Esmé chuckled, shaking her head. "It was very eventful."
She made a move to leave, but Noah wasn't quite finished.
"Wait—hold on." He stepped forward, eyes narrowing in blurry concentration. "Why are you here? I swear I saw you inside earlier."
Esmé paused for half a second before tilting her head with feigned ease. "I was. I was waiting on someone. But they never showed."
Noah hummed, taking the answer in stride before his grin returned, full of teasing confidence. "Was it your date? You couldn't wait for me to call first?"
Esmé rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched. "If you're asking me on a date, do it when you're sober."
Seraphina sighed, cutting through the conversation with firm amusement. "Alright, enough drunken flirting. Noah will call you later, Esmé."
Esmé offered a small smirk before turning on her heel, leaving Noah to be corralled into the waiting taxi.
Behind her, his laughter still rang through the night.
Esmé slid into her car, still wearing the faintest of smiles. His sister.
For a moment, the air around her felt lighter—less uncertain. She had been prepared for a different outcome, for something that would complicate her careful plans. But this was good. This was easy.
She started the engine and pulled away, content.
Meanwhile, in the back of the taxi, Noah lounged lazily against the seat, his head tilted back, eyes half-closed.
"Seraaaa…" he called out dramatically.
Seraphina sighed, already bracing herself.
"I like Esmé," he announced, then hummed the beginning of some drunken tune, barely managing a rhythm.
Seraphina glanced at him with mild amusement. "You just met her."
Noah waved off the logic. "And? She's great. I can tell these things."
Seraphina scoffed, shaking her head. "Sure. That's exactly how it works. Meet someone once—instant love story."
He pointed at her weakly. "Exactly."
She rolled her eyes, letting him ramble until his energy faded, his words drifting into sleepy murmurs before he finally slumped against the seat, sound asleep.
When they arrived home, Seraphina sighed, dragging her brother toward his bed.
He mumbled something incoherent, barely aware as she settled him in.
She smirked faintly, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. "Sleep it off, idiot."
As she stepped back, his breathing evened out, fully lost to sleep.
With a final glance, she turned off the light and left.
Esmé waited, her car idling a short distance from Noah's building, watching as Seraphina's vehicle pulled away into the night.
She exhaled slowly. Now.
Sliding out of her car, she made her way inside, stepping up to the reception desk with effortless poise.
The receptionist barely glanced up until Esmé leaned in, a soft, knowing smile curling at the edges of her lips. "Hi," she said warmly, "I'm looking for Noah's apartment—my boyfriend's place. He left something of mine, and I need to grab it."
There was nothing hesitant in her voice, nothing to suggest she was anything but exactly what she claimed to be.
It worked.
Within moments, she had the number, the floor.
Now, she just needed to get inside.
The hallway was still, the building quiet at this late hour. When she reached Noah's door, she glanced around once, ensuring there were no lingering witnesses before swiftly picking the lock—quick, precise.
The door clicked open.
Inside, the apartment was dark, save for the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the windows.
Noah was there, sprawled on the bed, breathing slow and steady in his drunken sleep.
Esmé took her time.
She moved through the space carefully, fingers trailing lightly along the edges of furniture, eyes sweeping over every detail.
He was clean, organized—but not rigidly so. Books lined shelves in no particular order. Photos framed small moments—hiking trips, concerts, casual gatherings with friends. A quiet, adventurous spirit.
Records stacked neatly, a blend of rock and jazz—a mix of thrill and calm.
She studied it all, absorbing each clue, piecing together the man she had chosen.
With every detail, she understood him a little more.
And that understanding?
It made everything easier.
Esmé moved quietly through Noah's bedroom, her eyes scanning the space with careful admiration. Everything was clean—not obsessively so, but neat in a way that suggested discipline. It wasn't chaotic, wasn't cluttered.
Did he have OCD? She doubted it.
It was simply the kind of order a single man maintained—structured enough to function, but not rigid enough to be calculated.
She allowed herself a moment before stepping toward his wardrobe, fingers grazing the fabric of his hanging shirts.
Then, with quiet deliberation, she pulled her perfume from her bag and lightly sprayed some onto the fabric—not too much, just enough for it to linger. A whisper of her presence, something subtle enough that he wouldn't recognize it outright but would carry with him regardless.
Satisfied, she turned to leave.
But just as she stepped toward the door, Noah groaned softly, shifting in his bed.
Esmé froze.
He mumbled something incoherent, blinking sluggishly in the dim light. His gaze was hazy, unfocused.
"Sera…?" he muttered, voice thick with sleep. "Make me some food. I'm hungry."
She swallowed, weighing the moment carefully. Her voice was steady when she finally spoke. "Eat tomorrow."
Noah hummed, barely processing the words before sinking back into his pillow, slipping easily into sleep once more.
Esmé lingered only a second longer before finally slipping out, leaving behind nothing but the faintest trace of her scent.
She slowly leaves the apartment.