A sudden burst of laughter and voices cut through the evening calm.
I frowned, pulling my cap slightly lower.
Noise.
From the neighbors, I thought.
The voices grew clearer, a man's deep laugh, a woman's melodic giggle.
My heart tightened, curiosity pricking at me despite my better judgment.
And then, a soft, deliberate knock at my door.
I froze.
Ken.
I opened the door slowly, keeping my expression neutral, cold as always.
"Ysabelle! I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said, smiling lightly.
His presence was calm, steady, unassuming, exactly the opposite of the chaos outside.
"I'm awake," I replied, voice clipped.
"I wanted to see if you wanted to come over," he said, glancing briefly toward the distant noise. "Some friends of mine are around. Thought it could be fun."
I studied him for a moment, the casual way he carried himself, the ease in his posture, the way he didn't try to impress me.
I hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."
We walked to his apartment, just a short distance away.
I kept my cap low, hoodie tight, careful to blend into the quiet streets.
When we arrived, the door opened and I saw them: three guys lounging comfortably in the living room, laughing and teasing each other, and one girl a tall, poised, striking, like someone born to be noticed.
Ken introduced them effortlessly.
"This is Mark, Leo, and Jon. And this is Keisha," he said, nodding toward the girl.
"Hi," I said simply, tone flat, watching them carefully.
Keisha smiled, smooth and confident.
Her eyes flicked toward me in recognition. "You're Ysabelle, right? I've seen you perform. Incredible on stage and your drama and movies are great."
I nodded politely. "Thank you."
Ken led us to the small garden behind his apartment, where string lights cast a soft glow over a table scattered with beer bottles and snacks.
"Sit anywhere," Ken said. "Relax. It's just us."
I chose a chair slightly apart, giving myself space to observe.
The group laughed, joked, and the easy camaraderie made my chest tighten slightly.
Keisha's charm was subtle, effortless, and everyone leaned in when she spoke.
I sipped my beer, keeping my expression neutral, though inside, a spark of irritation began to kindle.
Ken glanced at me once, a small, knowing smile, before returning to the group.
I watched him.
He fit here, in the laughter, in the comfort, in the ease.
And I… didn't.
Keisha leaned back in her chair, long legs crossed, effortlessly charming.
She laughed at something Mark said, her voice light but precise, like a melody composed to catch attention.
I sipped my beer again, tone neutral, studying her.
Her presence irritated me more than I cared to admit.
Not jealousy exactly, but a prickling awareness, a disturbance in the calm I had been cultivating.
"So, Ysabelle," Keisha said suddenly, eyes flicking toward me, "how's life treating you out here? The city must feel so far away."
I didn't flinch. "It's… quieter," I replied flatly, careful not to give more than necessary.
She tilted her head, intrigued. "I can imagine. Must be a nice change from all the… chaos."
"Yes," I said simply, taking another sip of beer. "Nice."
Ken caught my glance briefly and offered that small, quiet smile that made the edges of my chest loosen.
He didn't speak, didn't interrupt, just let me exist in my cold, measured way while the others laughed and joked.
Mark, Leo, and Jon bantered loudly, throwing jokes back and forth.
Ken's laugh was easy, relaxed, effortless, blending with them yet distinct, like a thread weaving through the group.
I noticed the subtle ways he moved around them: attentive, patient, not dominating, not showing off.
The effortless ease of it made something twist in my chest.
Keisha leaned closer to Ken, sharing some story. I couldn't hear all the words, but the way he smiled at her, warm, attentive and made my jaw tighten imperceptibly.
I wanted to look away, to retreat further into my chair, but I couldn't.
My eyes kept flicking toward them, measuring, calculating, cold on the outside while something hot stirred beneath the surface.
Beer bottles clinked as Leo reached for a snack, spilling crumbs onto the table.
Keisha laughed lightly, brushing them off and fixing her hair.
It was mundane, and yet every movement she made seemed calculated, perfect and infuriating.
I shifted in my chair, the irritation growing.
Not toward her exactly, not yet, but toward the ease with which she existed in Ken's orbit.
I hated it.
Not because she was beautiful, though she was.
Not because she was confident, though she was.
Because it reminded me of myself… years ago. When I had existed for someone else's eyes, someone else's applause, someone else's expectations
.
And I hated the idea of letting that feeling surface again.
Ken glanced at me again, reading the flicker of tension in my expression.
His eyes softened for a moment, but he didn't comment.
Didn't intrude.
Just let me be, even as I felt the storm coiling in my chest.
I sipped my beer, careful, measured.
Keisha leaned in to tell a joke, her laughter spilling over the table.
Ken laughed with her, that warm, easy sound, and I felt it, the small, sharp edge of irritation that I couldn't name.
I told myself it wasn't jealousy.
It wasn't possessiveness.
It was observation.
Analysis.
Measurement.
Yet my chest tightened.
My hands gripped the bottle slightly harder than necessary.
Hours passed.
The light dimmed slightly.
The group laughed, shared stories, and drank casually.
Ken seemed to navigate effortlessly, present yet unobtrusive, grounding the group while letting everyone shine.
And I, cold and distant, remained on the edge.
Observing.
Calculating.
Measuring.
But inside… a spark had been lit.
One that I wasn't ready to admit existed.
A spark that would not be easily extinguished.