There I was, standing in front of Cairo's unit like a mailman who forgot the actual mail, just holding a takeout menu in one hand and a giant pile of pride in the other.
Should I knock? No, because… I'm not the suitor.
He is.
He's the one with the good bone structure and the emotionally repressed vibes.
I'm just the girl with a crushed ego and slightly smudged mascara.
Balance! But then again, what if he's waiting for me to ask?
Like reverse psychology… or maybe reverse courting?
Oh my gosh, Elara, what are you even saying?
I exhaled dramatically like I was the lead in an indie film. "Okay, maybe just one casual knock—"
And then I froze.
A voice.
A female voice.
Inside.
Cairo's. Condo.
"HAHAHA! Cai, you're still so serious!"
Oh no.
No, no, no.
Of course.
Of course it was Nadine.
The ghost of my emotional damage.
The villain in my romance movie.
The ant to my sugar cube.
I didn't even think.
I just knocked.
And by knocking, I mean I nearly pounded the door down like it owed me rent money.
"Cairo, open this door! I know what's going on in there! I'm not blind! I'm not deaf! I'm not—well, okay, I am slightly irrational right now, but that's beside the point!"
The door swung open.
Cairo stood there, eyebrows slightly raised, holding a glass of water like he was shooting a casual advertisement for mineral hydration.
I didn't wait for him to speak.
"You are cheating on me again!" I said, my finger pointing directly at his chest, my breath uneven, my Oscar-worthy tear ducts fully prepped for takeoff.
Cairo blinked, totally flat. "Again?"
"Well—no, not legally again. But emotionally! I can feel it! It's spiritual cheating!"
Then Nadine popped into the frame right behind him, casually holding a decorative pillow like she was helping him redecorate. "Hey, Elara."
I gasped, clutching my throat. "Elara? Don't 'Elara' me! Why are you flirting with my suitor?!"
Nadine didn't even flinch.
She looked at me, looked at Cairo, then rolled her eyes heavily. "We're just friends, okay? Like, childhood besties. Whatever happens with your love life is entirely up to you two. You're grown—deal with it."
She brushed past me into the hallway like this was a primetime telenovela and she was the wiser older sister making a cameo in Episode 57.
I turned back to Cairo, offended on a deep, spiritual level. "What's so funny?" I demanded.
Because, yes—he was LAUGHING.
Like, actually laughing.
The kind that involved genuine shoulder-shaking and visible teeth.
"You," he said, still chuckling. "You're intense."
"I am not intense," I huffed, stepping past him into his condo like I owned all the trauma in the room. "I am dramatic. There is a structural difference."
He closed the door behind me. "You want dinner?"
"Oh, now you ask. I came here to ask you first, you know. But I hesitated. Because tradition. Because roles. Because the patriarchy. But it's fine. It's so fine. Let's just eat whatever leftovers Nadine left behind."
"She didn't cook," he said, walking toward the kitchen counter. "She just needed help carrying some heavy furniture."
"Sure," I muttered under my breath like a literal martyr. "I almost wore heels tonight, Cairo. Heels."
He glanced down at my stark white sneakers.
"Well, I almost wore them."
—
Dinner smelled like garlic and mild betrayal.
Cairo made garlic shrimp pasta from scratch, using actual butter, which made it deeply difficult for me to stay mad at him.
Especially when he plated it for me like an actual gentleman.
Or like a man trying to win back my legal trust via heavy carbohydrates.
"Thanks," I said, twirling the pasta around my fork with the grace of someone who had recently googled "how to flirt while eating."
He just nodded and sat across from me, munching quietly like this was a normal Wednesday night and not a night of borderline spiritual cheating.
I stared at him.
He stared at his plate.
I stared harder.
He finally looked up, setting his fork down. "What?"
"You have something… on your lips," I said, lying with absolute, peak confidence. "Right there. Left side."
He wiped the right side of his mouth.
"Nope," I said, leaning in. "Other side."
He wiped again.
"Nope. Closer to the middle. Yeah. Just right there."
He narrowed his eyes at me, parsing the trap. "There's nothing there, is there?"
I shrugged, biting my lip. "Nope. But I wanted to kiss you so bad I completely made something up."
I leaned across the small table and kissed him.
Soft.
Light.
A simple peck, really.
But then I froze mid-air.
I pulled back instantly, my eyes wide.
"Oh my gosh. I forgot. You're still… I'm still… I'm supposed to be letting you court me officially! I am supposed to be in my playing-hard-to-get era!"
I covered my mouth with both hands, utterly mortified by my own lack of romantic restraint.
He laughed.
Like, an actual, full-body laugh.
Again!
"What is funny now?!"
"You," he said, leaning back comfortably in his chair, crossing his arms. "You're like a rom-com on steroids."
"Well, I am actively trying to be mysterious and highly desirable!" I stood up, my cheeks fully flustered. "And here I am breaking my own structural rules just because you sautéed some shrimp!"
"You're welcome," he said, the smirk returning to his face.
I sighed deeply, grabbing my tote bag off the counter. "I'm going home. I need to process this immense shame in absolute privacy."
He followed me to the door, handing me a small Tupperware container. "Leftovers. In case you want to cry-eat later."
"Thank you," I said, holding the container like a hard-won breakup trophy.
And just as I was stepping out into the hallway—
"Ack!"
ARI.
Standing right there in a full matching sweatsuit, carrying a large wintermelon bubble tea.
The two of us jumped like a pair of teenagers caught sneaking out of a window.
"It's not what you think!" I said immediately, throwing my hands up like a thief caught in a cartoon.
Ari slowly raised one perfectly threaded eyebrow. "Girl, as if I cared about your yoga-blink-blink."
"WE'RE NOT AT THAT STAGE YET, OKAY?!" I shouted, my face turning entirely red.
Cairo was leaning against the doorframe behind me, laughing again.
"Shut up," I snapped at him, shoving the container of pasta briefly into his chest before turning around and stomping off toward my unit.
Ari followed closely behind, sipping his drink like this was just another standard episode in my messy primetime sitcom.
The moment we stepped into my condo, Ari gave the place the exact same look he gives his overpriced oat milk when it turns out completely watery.
"This place still smells like severe heartbreak and essential oils," he remarked, flopping onto my plush couch like he paid the mortgage.
"Please remove your shoes," I muttered half-heartedly, kicking my white sneakers off into the corner. "I'm trying to build a highly dignified environment now that I am in the process of being courted."
"Courted?" Ari choked, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and dramatically burying his face into the fabric. "You literally just screamed 'you're cheating on me' to a man who isn't even your boyfriend yet."
"Because he is, emotionally," I snapped, flinging myself onto the cushions beside him. "We've held hands. We've shared yesterday's rice. He cooked for me from scratch! That's basically a legally binding prenup in my world."
"You're completely deranged," he said with absolute, pure best-friend affection.
"No," I said, sitting up straighter to adjust my gold hoops. "I'm just... heavily misinterpreted by modern society."
Ari looked at me like he was mentally listing every single one of my past personal offenses. "So let me get this straight. You asked him what you are, he admitted he likes you too, and now he's supposedly courting you?"
"Yes. But I explicitly told him he has to court me properly. Like… serenade me under the balcony or whatever. With a guitar. Or a cute ukulele. I don't really know the current rules."
"Girl," Ari paused, staring flatly. "You literally just followed him home tonight."
I gasped. "That is entirely beside the point."
He leaned forward, setting his bubble tea on the table. "What are you even expecting from the guy? A boutique bouquet made of bacon roses? A sonnet written on a piece of table tissue paper?"
I blinked, processing the imagery. "Okay, first of all, that sounds incredibly amazing."
Ari let out a loud groan.
"But look," I continued, twirling a stray strand of my hair around my finger. "This is all completely new to me. Boys… mutual affection… genuine feelings that aren't directed toward carbs. I'm confused."
"Well, I hate to break it to you," he said gently, "but being confused doesn't excuse acting like a clingy neck pillow on a budget airline. You need to chill, Elara. Let him chase you a little bit. Let him… I don't know, actually earn it."
"I am letting him," I whispered, defensive. "That's why I'm not texting him right now. That's why I'm right here, spending high-quality time with my wise and emotionally grounded best friend."
"You're only here because I caught you post-kiss in front of his door like a struggling K-drama extra."
"Well," I sniffed, crossing my legs. "Even extras get a few seconds of valuable screentime."
Ari stood up, crossing his arms over his sweatsuit. "You wanna talk actual strategy, or are we just gonna sit here and spiral?"
I dramatically placed a hand over my heart. "Spiral. Please."
He sighed, a smirk breaking out on his face. "Alright. Spiral it is. Tell me everything you're currently overthinking. Right now."
I clapped like an excited seal. "Okay! First, what if he's only nice to me because I'm incredibly annoying and he feels bad for my life? Like, what if he's just… enduring my presence?"
"Impossible. No human being endures that much edible glitter and survives without genuinely wanting to be there."
"Second, what if Nadine actually is secretly into him, and they've had this deep, unspoken connection all along? Like a tragic, underground workplace romance?"
"Elara—"
"And what if," I continued, standing up to pace the living room like a detective in invisible heels, "he kissed me back just now but didn't actually mean it? What if it was just a physical reflex? Like when someone sneezes and you automatically say 'bless you' even if you secretly hate them?"
"Elara!"
I froze mid-pace. "Yes?"
"You kissed him directly on the lips. That's not a sneeze. That's not a muscle reflex. That is certified 'I'm-into-you' territory."
"Really?" I squeaked, my voice dropping three octaves.
Ari's expression softened a little, stepping closer to pat my shoulder. "Yes, you delulu drama queen. But if you keep treating this entire relationship like it's a primetime teleserye, he's gonna think you're just in love with the idea of being in love—not with him."
I slumped back onto the couch, completely defeated by the accuracy of his statement. "It's just… so much easier to be dramatic. It's literally who I am as a person."
"I know," he smirked, tossing a small throw pillow directly at my stomach. "But maybe… just this once, try being real. Not everything has to be a produced scene."
"But I love scenes," I whimpered into the pillow. "Scenes love me."
"Save it for the five-line audition you completely missed today," he teased, which sent a direct, sharp stab to my chest.
My hand flew to my heart. "Too soon, Ari. Too soon."
The two of us burst into a fit of laughter until our stomachs genuinely hurt.
And in that exact moment, looking at my best friend wheezing on the floor, I forgot all about the Cairo-and-Nadine dilemma.
I was just Elara again.
Slightly heartbroken, mildly hysterical, and entirely ridiculous.
And maybe, just maybe, that was more than enough for tonight.