Chapter 5: Struggling days (Richard's POV)

As the days turned into weeks, an undeniable tension started to brew between Haze and me. Our initial interactions, filled with curiosity and amicability, had slowly given way to annoyance and frustration.

One day I try to experiment with my newfound idea of meatballs, when I asked Haze about her favorite food. She always eats little and looks a little bit anemic, so I decided to secretly mix tomatoes thinking it would help her health.

When I was preparing a meatball, I put a small piece of tomato inside and cover the tomato smell with some delicious meat sauce. It looked perfect on the outside that no one will suspect a thing. I was so proud and called Haze to let her know dinner is ready. I confidently presented pasta with meatballs before her when she sat. I anxiously watched her eat the first bite, at first, everything was okay, but suddenly Haze threw out the food she was eating and then found the tomato piece inside it.

I was ready to be scolded, but instead, Haze went to the bathroom and refused to eat anything that day. I felt foolish trying to force things on others when the other side is not up to it. After that incident, I stopped being sneaky and try to be more open, and started putting out tomatoes on every breakfast, lunch, and dinner table.

Haze, with her aloof demeanor and enigmatic silence, often appeared distant and detached. Her dedication to her work so remarkable but only added to the growing divide between us. Every attempt I try to become a friend with Haze, It felt as if she had put up an impenetrable barrier around her, shutting me out and leaving me alone with my writing.

So I did what I can do best, whenever I had the chance, like dinner or a morning encounter in the kitchen, I start talking about my novel like it was real. Sometimes, I even find my new idea when I was talking to Haze about my writing. However, Haze's subtle sighs and eye rolls spoke volumes, conveying her, impatience and exasperation with my enthusiasm.

Sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder if we were destined to remain strangers dwelling under the same roof. The hope of friendship still lingers in my mind.

Despite my struggling life with my roommate my new novel gained momentum, which was focusing on the lives of wealthy individuals, I found myself caught up in the writing process. My editor, Henry, was pleased with my work, and it felt great. My new novel is based on my current situation. But picturing Haze to be more sweet, extraverted, and delicate.

Each morning, I would wake up and head to the private gym in the apartment building that I had discovered a few weeks ago. Haze never mentioned its existence, and when I asked her about it, she simply shrugged and said, "You never asked," with an indifferent expression.

I couldn't believe how she managed to navigate through life with such an attitude. To my surprise, I had no idea what her occupation was. Every morning after breakfast, she would retreat to her office and only emerge during lunch and dinner. Sometimes, I would catch glimpses of her working late into the night, and occasionally she would announce that she was going on a business trip and would be away for a few days.

It was evident that she was engaged in some form of work, but after living here for three months, I still had no idea what exactly it entailed.