Racheal hurried up the stairs, her stomach twisting with hunger and her mind still buzzing from the morning's events. The last thing she wanted right now was to face Erica's endless questions, but she knew she couldn't dodge her forever.
"Hey, lady—" Erica's voice rang the moment they entered the apartment. She trailed behind with arms crossed, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Care to explain what I just saw outside? You, stepping out of an expensive car, with a man that screamed trouble and mystery?"
Racheal avoided her gaze, placing her bag on the couch. Instead of answering, she pressed a hand to her growling stomach. "Do you have food? I'm starving."
Erica's eyebrows shot up. "Food? That's all you can think of? I spent the whole morning looking for you—I didn't even bother to cook anything. Do you know how worried I was?"
"I didn't ask you to worry," Racheal muttered, though guilt tugged at her tone. She sank into the chair, rubbing her temple.
Erica sighed, then suddenly remembered her earlier conversation. "By the way, remind me of something—your roommate. Are you guys not on good terms? She looked… well, let's just say not too friendly when I asked about you."
Racheal scoffed. "I don't even know her name since I moved in. And honestly? I don't care to know."
Erica studied her face, then grinned mischievously. "Hmm… that's my girl. Cold as ice when you want to be."
The corner of Racheal's lips curled into a reluctant smile.
"Alright," Erica said, clapping her hands dramatically. "Let's find something to eat. But you're not escaping—I need the full gist of what I saw outside. You can't just waltz out of a fancy car like that and expect me to keep quiet."
They moved to the kitchen together. Erica rummaged through the fridge while Racheal leaned lazily against the counter. Soon, the smell of onions sizzling in oil filled the small space. As Erica chopped tomatoes, Racheal stole one and popped it into her mouth.
"Hey! That was for the stew!" Erica exclaimed, swatting at her.
Racheal laughed, dodging. "Relax, chef. You've got plenty left."
They playfully nudged each other while preparing the food—Racheal sprinkling too much pepper into the pan just to annoy Erica, who retaliated by flicking a bit of flour at her. The apartment echoed with their giggles, the tension of earlier fading into the easy rhythm of their friendship.
For the first time that day, Racheal felt almost normal.
*************************
Meanwhile, across town in the luxury apartment, Gideon and the other guy were glued to their game controllers, eyes fixed on the flashing screen. The sound of gunfire and explosions filled the room as they yelled at each other in competition.
But between rounds, they sneaked glances at their friend. Mr. Unknown was sprawled on the couch, arms crossed, lips curved in the faintest smirk. His mood was noticeably lighter, though he hadn't said a word.
"Yo, man," Gideon said, pausing the game. "You've been acting different all day. Care to share?"
"Yeah," the other guy added with a grin. "It's rare to see you smiling at nothing. Spill already."
Mr. Unknown remained silent, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, as though their questions didn't exist.
Gideon nudged him with his foot. "C'mon, don't leave us hanging. What's with that face?"
Still no answer. Only the hint of that lingering smirk.
The two friends exchanged baffled looks. It was almost unbelievable—their usually cold, unreadable friend now looked like he was carrying a secret that amused him.
And then, just as curiosity pressed in heavier, the door clicked open.
Mia stepped in.
Her presence filled the room immediately—her designer dress, the effortless grace in her walk, the striking aura that always seemed to silence a crowd. She glanced around with a curious smile, her gaze finally settling on her brother.
"Surprise," she said softly.
The boys froze, controllers forgotten. Gideon and the other guy exchanged wide-eyed looks. Mr. Unknown's smirk was gone, replaced with a guarded expression.
The game was over. Something far more interesting had just entered the room.