The alarm buzzed like a mosquito with bad intentions.
Ava slammed her hand on it, groaning as she sat up. Another Monday, another mountain of emails, another day of pretending she cared about quarterly reports.
Her apartment smelled faintly of coffee and cat fur. Noir was already awake, perched by the window like a dark statue.
"Don't you ever sleep in?" she mumbled.
"Some of us have responsibilities," he replied. "You wouldn't understand."
"Responsibilities like… staring dramatically into the distance?"
"Exactly."
Ava rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. She pulled on her work clothes a pale blue blouse, black slacks, hair in a messy bun.
The reflection in the mirror showed a woman who looked awake, but not alive.
Her workplace, Dawson Creative Solutions, was one of those modern glass offices where everything looked expensive but everyone inside looked exhausted.
She worked in the Marketing Department, though "worked" might've been too strong a word for what most of her day involved: surviving endless meetings and PowerPoints that could put anyone to sleep.
As she entered the open office, Mina waved from across the room, her usual bright smile shining like sunlight through smog.
"Ava! You made it before Daniel today. That's a first!"
Ava dropped her bag on the desk with a sigh. "I think I teleported. Don't ask how."
Daniel, who appeared seconds later with a coffee in hand, grinned. "I heard that."
"You were late," Mina teased. "Again."
"I was buying this," he said, raising his cup. "You know, fuel for surviving another day under Mr. Han's reign of terror."
At the mention of their boss, everyone instinctively glanced at the glass-walled office at the far end, where Mr. Han, the manager, stood like a sentry, reviewing papers with the intensity of a detective.
The man had mastered the art of walking silently across the office, appearing out of nowhere whenever someone dared to laugh too loud.
"Okay, team!" Mina said cheerfully. "Let's not die today."
"That's the spirit," Daniel muttered.
Ava smiled faintly as she powered on her computer. She liked Mina's relentless optimism it was ridiculous but contagious. Mina could find joy in anything: a cheap donut, a cat meme, a terrible pun.
Maybe that's why they'd become friends. Mina filled the silences Ava couldn't.
Around 10 a.m., the team gathered in the conference room for their weekly meeting. The whiteboard read:
'New Campaign – Launch Strategy for Vinta Beverages.'
Ava zoned out halfway through Mr. Han's opening speech. Words like "engagement metrics" and "audience conversion" blurred into static.
Instead, she found herself doodling in the corner of her notebook again a small sketch of Noir wearing a suit and glasses, glaring at a spreadsheet.
She bit back a laugh.
Daniel leaned closer, whispering, "Are you taking notes, or is that a financial cat apocalypse?"
"Both," she whispered back.
Mina snorted softly. Mr. Han looked up instantly. "Is something amusing, Miss Park?"
Mina froze, eyes wide. "Uh… no, sir! Just… appreciating your point about… market adaptation."
Ava bit her lip to keep from laughing. Daniel covered his mouth, pretending to cough.
Mr. Han gave them a long, unimpressed look before continuing the presentation.
When the meeting ended, Mina whispered, "I'm pretty sure I just died and resurrected."
"Welcome back," Daniel said dryly.
During lunch break, the trio escaped to a nearby café a cozy spot called Lumière, all warm lights and mismatched chairs.
Mina ordered her usual caramel latte, Daniel got an espresso, and Ava chose tea, though she rarely finished it.
"So," Mina said, leaning forward. "Any new adventures with your cat overlord?"
Ava sighed. "He told me I lack discipline this morning."
Daniel smirked. "He's not wrong."
Ava pointed at him with her spoon. "Traitor."
Mina giggled. "He's kind of right, though. You've been late three times this week."
"I was… soul-late," Ava said. "My body arrived, but my soul needed an extra thirty minutes."
Daniel laughed. "Same."
For a moment, they just sat there three tired people sharing coffee and quiet jokes, pretending everything was fine.
It wasn't happiness, not really. But it was enough to make life bearable.
When Ava returned home that evening, Noir greeted her with his usual tone of judgmental royalty.
"You smell like coffee and mediocrity."
"Nice to see you too," she said, tossing her bag on the couch. "Rough day."
"You humans make everything rough," he muttered, jumping onto the counter. "What did you even accomplish today?"
"Honestly?" Ava said. "I prevented Mina from dying of embarrassment and Daniel from falling asleep in a meeting."
"Truly heroic."
"Thank you, I accept tips in tuna donations."
Noir tilted his head. "That can be arranged."
She laughed. "You're insufferable."
"Yet, here you are, talking to me instead of your friends."
Ava paused, halfway through opening a can of soup. The remark stung more than she wanted to admit.
"I like talking to you," she said quietly.
Noir blinked once, then looked away, as if that answer made him uncomfortable.
He hopped down and walked to the window again, tail curling around his paws.
Outside, the city lights flickered like restless stars. Inside, the apartment was small, imperfect but alive.
Ava poured herself soup, sat beside Noir, and for the first time that day, she felt… peaceful.
By Wednesday, the week had already drained everyone at Dawson Creative Solutions. The office felt heavy, full of recycled air and recycled smiles. Ava sat at her desk, staring blankly at her screen. The cursor blinked, patient and judgmental.
She wasn't even sure what she was typing anymore emails, reports, meaningless replies that sounded professional but said absolutely nothing. Sometimes she wondered if anyone at the company actually read what she wrote.
Her small cubicle smelled faintly of Mina's vanilla perfume from the next desk over and the bitter scent of Daniel's black coffee. They were her little islands of sanity in an ocean of exhaustion.
Across the room sat Lydia the one person Ava could never quite understand. Lydia was beautiful, sharp, confident, and somehow always one step ahead. Her lipstick was perfect, her posture immaculate, and her smile looked like it had been trained in front of a mirror.
Ava didn't dislike her. But Lydia… clearly disliked Ava.
That morning, their team had to prepare a draft presentation for the beverage client. Lydia, as always, took control of the conversation.
"So," Lydia said, tapping her manicured nails against the table, "I'll handle the visuals and the core concept. Ava can manage the email scheduling and proofreading."
Ava blinked. "I thought I was working on the tagline ideas?"
Lydia smiled too sweetly. "Oh, I just thought it might be better if I took that part. You seemed really busy yesterday."
Translation: You're not creative enough for that job.
Mina frowned but didn't say anything. Daniel, sitting beside Ava, gave her a small supportive look. Ava just nodded and forced a polite smile.
"Sure. Whatever works best for the team."
Mr. Han, passing by, paused briefly to glance at them. "Lydia, I expect the first draft by Friday. Don't make it too flashy."
"Yes, sir," Lydia said smoothly. When he left, she whispered, "Too flashy? What does that even mean? He has no vision."
Ava bit her tongue, pretending to focus on her notes. The rest of the meeting passed like a blur.
By lunchtime, Ava's energy had dropped to critical levels. Mina dragged her and Daniel out of the building for some air.
"Honestly," Mina said, tearing open her sandwich, "Lydia's been on some sort of ego trip lately."
"She's just… competitive," Ava said, though her tone lacked conviction.
Daniel snorted. "She's toxic. Big difference."
Mina nodded dramatically. "She gives me villain-in-a-romcom vibes."
Ava laughed softly. "So I'm the clumsy heroine who spills coffee on her?"
"You already did that once," Mina reminded her.
Daniel almost choked on his drink laughing. "You didn't tell me that!"
"It was months ago," Ava groaned, covering her face. "I tripped. It was an accident."
"Sure, sure," Mina said with mock seriousness. "An accident that cemented your eternal rivalry."
Ava shook her head, smiling despite herself. "You guys watch too many dramas."
Mina pointed her straw at her. "No, we just know story arcs when we see them."
That evening, Ava stayed late to finish a report. The office was mostly empty now; only the hum of computers and the faint tapping of keyboards remained.
She leaned back in her chair, stretching. Her phone buzzed a message from her father.
Dad: How's work? Did you eat something decent today?
Ava smiled softly. Her father never sent long texts, just small check-ins. Since her mother's passing three years ago, he'd become quieter, more careful with words, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing.
Ava: Yeah. Just working late. Don't worry.
Dad: Okay. Try to get some rest. Proud of you, kiddo.
Her chest tightened. He always said that, and every time it hit the same spot the ache of wanting to feel like she really was someone to be proud of.
She typed back a heart emoji and stared at the screen for a moment before locking it.
As she packed her things, she noticed Lydia still at her desk, surrounded by piles of printouts. For once, she looked tired not picture-perfect, just human.
"Hey," Ava said hesitantly, "you're still here too?"
Lydia looked up, startled. "Oh. Yeah. Just… fixing some design drafts."
"Need help?" Ava asked.
Lydia blinked, as if she hadn't expected the offer. "No, I'm fine. But thanks."
Ava nodded and turned to leave. She was almost at the elevator when Lydia's voice stopped her.
"Hey, Ava."
She turned.
Lydia hesitated. "Your tagline idea the one you mentioned earlier. It wasn't bad."
Ava smiled faintly. "Thanks."
Lydia gave a quick nod and looked back at her computer. The moment was small, almost nothing. But for some reason, it made the fluorescent lights feel a little warmer.
Outside, the night air was cool and smelled faintly of rain. Ava walked home instead of taking the bus. The streets were alive with quiet motion neon lights blinking, couples laughing, someone strumming a guitar near a café.
Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to her mother. She remembered sitting beside her as a child, watching old animated films, the smell of pancakes on Sunday mornings. Those memories felt like little postcards from another life.
By the time she reached her building, the heaviness in her chest had softened.
Noir was waiting by the door, of course.
"You're late," he said.
"I worked overtime," she replied, locking the door behind her.
"Humans are fascinating," Noir said, following her into the kitchen. "You exhaust yourselves for imaginary numbers and still call it success."
Ava placed her bag down, smiling tiredly. "We call it survival."
"Semantics," Noir muttered, jumping onto the counter. "Did you at least defeat your enemies?"
"Not yet," Ava said. "But one of them said something nice for once. That's progress."
He tilted his head. "So it begins. The fragile alliance."
Ava laughed, opening the fridge. "You watch too many dramas too."
"Impossible," Noir said. "I only watch when you're asleep."
She turned quickly. "Wait...what?"
But Noir just yawned, stretched, and walked away.
Ava stared after him, half amused, half unnerved. "You're the weirdest thing in my life, you know that?"
"Flattery will get you nowhere," he called from the couch.
She smiled softly, shaking her head. "Goodnight, you arrogant little philosopher."
"Goodnight, average human."
That night, as Ava lay in bed, she felt something different an unfamiliar steadiness in her chest.
Work was still tiring, life was still messy, but it didn't feel so empty anymore.
Maybe it was the friends who made her laugh.
Maybe it was the cat who insulted her daily.
Or maybe, somehow, she was starting to feel alive again.
The next morning arrived too soon. The alarm buzzed at 7:30, cutting through Ava's dream like a blunt knife. She fumbled to hit snooze, groaning into her pillow.
"Are you dying?" a voice asked flatly.
Ava peeked from under the blanket. Noir was sitting on her bedside table, his tail flicking with exaggerated patience.
"I'm sleeping," she mumbled.
"You were snoring."
"I do not snore."
"You do. Quite dramatically."
Ava sat up, her hair a tangled mess. "Says the creature who naps eighteen hours a day."
Noir blinked. "Rest is essential for higher beings."
"Higher beings don't shed on my pillow."
"That's a baseless accusation."
She pointed at the pillow. "Evidence says otherwise."
He looked at it, then at her. "Framed. You're setting me up."
Ava couldn't help laughing. It was too early for arguments, but somehow, sparring with Noir had become part of her morning routine.
In the kitchen, she poured herself coffee and threw some cereal into a bowl. Noir sat on the counter, watching her every move like an overly judgmental roommate.
"You could at least pretend to be useful," she said.
"I provide companionship."
"You provide commentary."
"Same thing."
Ava smiled faintly. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Only when I'm thinking."
"And how often is that?"
He gave a long, pointed look. "Far more often than you'd imagine."
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of coffee. It was bitter, but familiar.
For a brief moment, the kitchen felt… warm. Not because of the sunlight spilling through the curtains, but because of the quiet presence beside her.
It was strange having someone, even a sarcastic cat, to share mornings with.
Later that afternoon, Ava called her father during her lunch break. He answered on the second ring.
"Hey, kiddo," he said, his voice gentle but tired.
"Hi, Dad. How's everything?"
"Oh, you know. Same as usual. Fixed the sink today. Felt like an accomplishment."
She smiled softly. "That is an accomplishment."
"And you? How's work?"
Ava hesitated. "Busy. But… not bad. I'm managing."
"That's my girl," he said. There was a pause, then a sigh. "You've been sounding better lately. Lighter."
Ava leaned against the wall, looking out the office window. "Yeah. I guess I am."
"You've got that spark again," he said. "Your mother used to have it too. You remind me of her sometimes."
Her throat tightened. "Thanks, Dad."
They talked a few more minutes about groceries, weather, small nothings that meant everything. When she hung up, her heart felt full and heavy all at once.
That evening, when Ava came home, Noir was sprawled dramatically across the couch, belly up.
"I see you've been working hard all day," she teased.
He opened one eye. "Spiritual labor is still labor."
"Sure it is." She set her bag down and ruffled his fur lightly as she passed. "You're warm. Have you been lying in the sun again?"
"I was meditating."
"You were napping."
"Semantics."
Ava laughed quietly, heading to the kitchen. Noir followed, his tail swishing like a metronome.
"You should rest too," he said. "Humans burn themselves out chasing invisible rewards."
She opened the fridge. "Invisible rewards like rent and electricity?"
"Exactly those."
"I'll rest when my bills pay themselves."
Noir tilted his head. "You sound like you're at war with the world."
"Maybe I am," Ava said with a small smile. "But I'm winning tiny battles."
Noir's eyes softened a flicker of something older, deeper, in his gaze. "That's how wars are won."
Ava froze, sensing something in his tone. "You talk like you've seen one."
He looked away, his tail curling around his paws. "Maybe I have."
There was silence for a beat. Ava wanted to ask more, but she didn't. The air between them felt fragile, like a thread stretched too tight.
Instead, she said lightly, "Well, as long as you're not plotting to conquer the neighborhood."
Noir's lips twitched. "Not yet."
That night, Ava dreamed again.
She stood in a misty forest, the moon hanging low like a lantern. Somewhere ahead, a voice was calling her name not shouting, just whispering.
She followed it until she saw a man standing beside a ruined stone archway. He wore clothes that didn't belong to her time dark cloak, worn boots, and a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon. His face was obscured by shadow, but his voice… it was familiar.
When he turned, she saw a pair of golden eyes.
"Find me," he said.
Ava woke with a start, breathless. The room was dark, the faint sound of rain against the window.
On the foot of her bed sat Noir, watching her silently.
"You were talking in your sleep," he said quietly.
She blinked, still half-dreaming. "What did I say?"
He hesitated. "You called someone's name."
"Whose?"
He looked away. "You tell me."
Before she could reply, he jumped down and padded out of the room.
Ava stared at the doorway long after he left, her heartbeat slowing.
For the first time, she couldn't tell if her dreams were just dreams or if something else was trying to reach her through them.
The next morning, the world felt sharper. The city noise, the coffee smell, the ticking clock all of it felt more alive.
As Ava got ready for work, she caught her reflection in the mirror. There was color in her cheeks again. A light in her eyes she hadn't seen in years.
Maybe she wasn't lost after all. Maybe, in some strange way, she was finally finding her way back.
And somewhere in the apartment, a cat with golden eyes watched her quietly his expression unreadable, but his heart, perhaps, not as distant as he wished it to be.