Diana directed from below: "Left side up a little... just a bit more... okay, okay! Right side is crooked now..."
Ethan stood on the step stool, adjusting and complaining at the same time: "President's standards are something else."
Once the curtains were up and drawn, the room wrapped around itself differently. Warmer. More complete.
Pulled open again, the river came back into view.
Then the kitchen.
Diana treated every piece like it mattered, unwrapping and washing each pot and pan carefully before setting it in place.
She seasoned the German wok properly with a piece of fatty pork, working it slowly over the heat.
The new bowls and plates caught the kitchen light and gleamed.
She arranged the seasoning bottles by type. The counter filled up and started to look like somewhere people actually lived.
Ethan wasn't standing around either — he unpacked towels and bath linens, put them away in the bathroom and the linen closet, set up the basics throughout the apartment.
The robot vacuum hummed its way through the rooms, picking up the last of the new-home dust.
By the time everything was settled, night had come down outside.
The city lit up beyond the glass and the river carried moving lines of light along its surface. Inside, the apartment was warm and new and theirs.
"Tired?" Ethan looked at Diana, a faint shine of effort on her forehead.
"Not at all!" Her eyes were bright. "Time to actually cook. Go sit in the living room for a bit — dinner won't take long."
Ethan took his instructions, went to the living room, turned on the new smart speaker, and let something soft fill the space.
He settled into the couch and watched Diana work in the open kitchen.
She had on a new floral apron, hair loosely tied up, her neck showing as she focused on the cutting board.
The light traced the line of her profile. The sound of the pan, running water, the knife on the board — all of it wove together into something that felt like the most honest kind of music. The sound of a home starting.
Then the smell hit.
"Ready!" Diana's voice carried a note of real excitement.
Ethan came to the table.
On the new dining table, spread with a fresh tablecloth, three dishes and a soup sat steaming and full of color: sea bass glistening with soy and scallion oil, fragrant and clean. Short ribs deep red, fall-off-the-bone tender. Stir-fried greens bright and glossy. A bowl of tomato egg drop soup with chopped scallion on top.
"Okay, Chef Diana. I'm impressed already." Ethan sat down, genuinely meaning it.
Diana untied her apron and sat across from him, a small nervous anticipation on her face: "Try it first. New pot, new stove — I'm still figuring out the heat levels..."
Ethan picked up a rib first. Tender all the way through, salty-sweet balance exactly right, the sauce deep and rich.
"That's — that's actually incredible. Better than a restaurant." He reached for the fish. It came apart cleanly, fresh and perfectly cooked.
"Fish is perfect too. So clean."
He worked through the vegetables and the soup — both simple, both exactly right.
"Diana. Genuinely. Why don't you have a restaurant?"
Diana felt a little flustered by the praise but warm with it: "As long as you like it."
The two of them sat in that brand-new apartment, eating their first real dinner, the river and the city lights spread out beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass.
No extravagance on the table. Just home cooking. And every bite tasted like something more than food.
Every bite tasted like home.
After cleaning up, they settled together on the wide curved terrace.
The night air carried the faint coolness off the river and the soft warmth still left from the day.
The city hummed and glittered in the distance, traffic moving in slow streams, neon running along the skyline. Below, the Hudson moved quietly, holding the moon and the stars on its surface.
The world was loud out there. Here it was just theirs.
Ethan held her from behind, chin resting lightly on top of her head.
"Do you like it here?" Low voice.
Diana leaned back against him, feeling his heartbeat against her back, his warmth. She looked out at the water and the light and exhaled slowly: "I love it. So much." She paused. "Thank you. For giving me something this real."
She turned in his arms, wrapped her hands around his neck, rose up on her toes, and kissed him — soft and slow and certain.
The kiss held the warmth of dinner, the feeling of the new home, something that went further down than either of them said out loud.
Ethan pulled her closer and deepened it.
The night breeze moved through, lifting her hair, stirring something between them that had already been tied tight for a long time.
"I'm not going back to campus tonight." After the kiss, his forehead pressed to hers, voice dropping low.
Diana's cheeks went warm in the dark. A quiet sound of agreement, and she pressed her face into his chest.
In the bedroom, the new silk bedding held a faint clean scent.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass the river ran on without stopping.
When the two of them lay down together for the first time in that bed, the whole world outside went quiet.
Diana rested her head on his arm, listening to his breathing settle, feeling the steadiness of his heartbeat, the heat of his arms around her.
Beneath her — a soft, new bed. In the air — the smell of a new home and the familiar smell of him.
A feeling of safety wrapped around her completely. A happiness she hadn't had words for until right now.
"Hey..." she said softly into the dark.
"Mm." His arm pulled her closer.
...
The next morning.
Diana had already slipped out quietly and headed to the office.
Ethan slept in the new bed until his body decided it was done sleeping. No alarm. Just woke up.
He got up, had a simple breakfast, then made his way back to campus.
Back at the dorm, the moment he pushed the door open, Marcus let out a dramatic wail: "BRO. You're alive! I genuinely thought some woman had completely finished you off and we'd never see you again!"
He had the full look — bedhead, exaggerated expression of a man who had been abandoned.
Ethan dropped the bag he was carrying onto the nearest surface: "Shut it. Ungrateful. I brought you breakfast. Show some respect."
"Breakfast?" The curtain across the room flew open immediately. Kevin emerged with two enormous dark circles under his eyes, radar-locked on the bag in Ethan's hand like a submarine tracking a signal.
Ethan sighed and tossed a second bag onto Kevin's desk: "That one's yours."
"Thanks Ethan!" Kevin caught it and started eating at an inhuman pace, each bite precise and efficient.
Last bite down, he scratched his hair on reflex, then looked over at Ethan with a familiar hopeful expression: "Hey... you got a cigarette?"
Ethan: "..."
He had to hand it to this guy. From the end of the class meeting until right now, Kevin had not left his gaming chair for more than thirty minutes total. Every meal delivered to him by someone else. His entire world consisting of: bed, chair, bathroom. A perfectly optimized loop.
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