(Clarice’s POV)The silence lingered between them, heavy with unspoken words.James was gone.For some reason I remained frozen on the couch, feeling Ryan’s presence too near for comfort. I hardly registered what he was saying—something about how soft my lips were, how he’d wanted to kiss me since the first day we met. My thoughts however, were caught on the expression in James’s eyes.The pain.The betrayal.The heartbreak.I hadn’t intended for it to happen this way. Not like this.My breath came in shaky bursts, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Ryan sat beside me, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within me.“That was… nice,” he said, grinning at me, his voice smooth and relaxed. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”I blinked in surprise. “What?”“The kiss.” He chuckled, leaning back into the couch. “It felt right, don’t you think?”Did it?I just coul
(Clarice’s POV)I can’t say how long we stood there, the atmosphere weighted with unspoken feelings. James had just confessed it—he wanted to see me. His words were quiet, almost hesitant, yet they rang with sincerity. And that sincerity caused my heart to ache like never before. I inhaled deeply, my hands curling helplessly at my sides. “James…” He shook his head, dismissing it. “Forget it.” He turned away, heading toward the kitchen as if he needed space, but I couldn’t let this moment fade. Not when it was the first genuine thing he’d said since he opened that door. “I don’t want to forget it,” I said, moving closer to him. “I need to understand why.” James let out a sharp breath, leaning against the counter. His back was to me, his muscles tense beneath his shirt. “Does it even matter?” “Yes.” A dry laugh escaped him. “Why? So you can soothe your conscience? So you feel better about what went down with Ryan?” I flinched but held my g
There’s nothing quite as frustrating as an unexpected disruption.No, scratch that. There’s nothing worse than an easily avoidable unexpected disruption. Like the one that's currently turning my Friday morning upside down.I find myself staring at my inbox, rereading the email subject line with escalating disbelief.“URGENT: Temporary Housing Adjustment – Unit Swap Confirmation”This can’t be real. It seems like a poorly executed, immensely unfunny prank. Because there’s absolutely no way that I, a fully capable, somewhat organized adult, would inadvertently swap apartments with someone else.My fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard, poised to blast off a furious email, but a response arrives before I can even start.“Hi there! Due to an error in our system, your housing arrangement has been temporarily swapped with another tenant, effective immediately. Please check the attached details. We apologize for the inconvenience!”Inconvenience?I meticulously plan everything. I tripl
(POV – James) There are two kinds of people in the world: those who get worked up over the smallest setbacks, and those who just go with the flow.I like to think I fall into the second group.So, when I received a call this morning notifying me that my apartment was being temporarily switched, my response was simple:“Sure, why not?”The leasing agent seemed almost… relieved. Probably because they had just finished their conversation with Clarice.I can’t help but smirk. It’s been ages since I last saw my ex, but I’d wager she’s currently in a heated discussion with someone on the other end of that line.Still, I’m not entirely inconsiderate—I did ask who I’d be swapping with before I agreed. And when I heard the name, I did precisely what any reasonable person would do.I chuckled.Because of course, this would happen to us.Clarice and I had been polar opposites from our very first meeting—her with meticulously organized calendars, and me with my chaotic sketchbooks. Yet, despite
(POV – Clarice)The first thing I notice when I step into James’s apartment is that it doesn’t feel wrong.It just feels… not mine.Which is somehow worse.I set my suitcase down and take a slow, measured look around.The space is open and unstructured, but not in a careless way. His furniture is sleek and modern—dark wood, deep blue, and muted grays. Clean, sharp lines. No clutter.But where my apartment is meticulously curated, his feels effortless. Lived in. Comfortable in a way I can’t quite define.There’s no color-coded bookshelf, no symmetrical arrangement of furniture, no perfectly measured distance between the coffee table and the couch.Instead, there are sketchbooks stacked haphazardly on the console table, their edges worn from use. A half-finished architectural model sits on a side shelf, alongside a few scattered design books. A framed blueprint of the Sydney Opera House hangs above the couch—no doubt one of his favorite struc
(POV – James) The very moment I step into Clarice’s apartment, I know I don’t belong here. Not in a tragic, existential crisis way—more in a -this place is so pristine that I might actually be violating some sort of air quality standard just by breathing in it- way. I set my suitcase down and take a slow look around, half expecting to hear a museum tour guide whispering facts about the rare and endangered species of throw pillows she has arranged symmetrically on her couch. Everything is perfectly placed. The bookshelves are color-coded. The kitchen counter has exactly zero clutter. The coffee table has a decorative tray with an unlit candle, a tiny succulent, and a stack of coasters that look like they’ve never been touched. I open the fridge, just out of curiosity. Of course. Perfectly arranged groceries, neatly labeled containers, and a
(POV – Clarice)The apartment is too quiet.Which is funny, because I like quiet. I work best in silence, I think best in silence—honestly, I thrive in it.But this?This silence feels different.I exhale, rolling my shoulders as I scan the living room, hands on my hips like I’m about to evaluate a project scope.James’s apartment isn’t messy. It’s not chaotic. It’s just… James.Which is to say, it has zero symmetry, no obvious organizational system, and an impressive number of random objects that shouldn’t belong together but somehow do.I pick up a book from the coffee table. It’s an architecture book. Of course.Underneath it? A Morbius comic.I squint.A man in his thirties, with a degree, a career, and an allegedly functional brain, is out here stacking academic texts on top of Marvel comics like that makes sense.I roll my eyes and toss the book back.But it gets worse.The bookshelf is a mystery zone. One side
(POV – James)I knew Clarice was organized, but this?I don’t think I’ve ever seen a place so well—precise.I stand at the front door for a second, just staring. Her apartment is like something out of one of those design magazines you find in hotel lobbies, the ones you flip through for inspiration but never actually live in.Everything is in its place. The furniture, the bookshelves, the art on the walls—it’s as if she hired a personal stylist just to make everything look perfectly curated. Even the throw pillows on the couch are arranged like they’ve been carefully rotated just to maintain their “fluff.”Who does that?I chuckle to myself, shaking my head.I toss my bag on the perfectly organized kitchen counter, and that’s when I catch myself:I’m laughing. Laughing.She’s such a freak. A beautiful, efficient, ridiculously precise freak.It’s the kind of precision that makes me feel like I should be in a museum or something, not her ap
(Clarice’s POV)I can’t say how long we stood there, the atmosphere weighted with unspoken feelings. James had just confessed it—he wanted to see me. His words were quiet, almost hesitant, yet they rang with sincerity. And that sincerity caused my heart to ache like never before. I inhaled deeply, my hands curling helplessly at my sides. “James…” He shook his head, dismissing it. “Forget it.” He turned away, heading toward the kitchen as if he needed space, but I couldn’t let this moment fade. Not when it was the first genuine thing he’d said since he opened that door. “I don’t want to forget it,” I said, moving closer to him. “I need to understand why.” James let out a sharp breath, leaning against the counter. His back was to me, his muscles tense beneath his shirt. “Does it even matter?” “Yes.” A dry laugh escaped him. “Why? So you can soothe your conscience? So you feel better about what went down with Ryan?” I flinched but held my g
(Clarice’s POV)The silence lingered between them, heavy with unspoken words.James was gone.For some reason I remained frozen on the couch, feeling Ryan’s presence too near for comfort. I hardly registered what he was saying—something about how soft my lips were, how he’d wanted to kiss me since the first day we met. My thoughts however, were caught on the expression in James’s eyes.The pain.The betrayal.The heartbreak.I hadn’t intended for it to happen this way. Not like this.My breath came in shaky bursts, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Ryan sat beside me, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within me.“That was… nice,” he said, grinning at me, his voice smooth and relaxed. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”I blinked in surprise. “What?”“The kiss.” He chuckled, leaning back into the couch. “It felt right, don’t you think?”Did it?I just coul
(James’s POV)The day had been a blur, full of deadlines and meetings that dragged on longer than expected. By the time I got Clarice’s call, I could barely keep my eyes open. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her—I always wanted to talk to her—but I was buried in work, a pile of papers I couldn’t escape. The office had me in its grip, and I was barely holding on. I didn’t even know what time it was anymore. It felt like it had been a hundred hours since I’d seen sunlight.“Clarice.” I managed to say.“Hey umm, You sound busy. Are you?” She sounded… unsure.Her voice was soft, but I could tell from the sound of it that she was expecting something different. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot to get to today.” My tone was sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t help it. My mind was elsewhere—on the reports, the emails, the presentation I hadn’t finished. It was all too much, and it felt like there was no way out.I could hear her pause on the other end, th
(Clarice’s POV)I tap my fingers against the edge of the coffee table, staring at my phone as I debate whether or not to call him.James.The name alone stirs something in my chest, something complicated. Something that hasn’t gone away, no matter how much I try to push it aside.I exhale sharply, shaking off the nerves. This is ridiculous. It’s just a phone call. We’re adults. I don’t have to overthink every interaction.Before I can talk myself out of it, I tap his name and bring the phone to my ear. He doesn’t pick and I proceed to dial again. He finally picks up on the third ring.“Clarice?” His voice sounded flustered, kind of like I was a disturbance of some sort.“Hey umm,” I say, trying to sound casual. “You sound busy. Are you?”“Uh, yes. I’ve got a lot to get to today.”I paused. He was being weird. His tone wasn’t cold, exactly, but it’s definitely not warm either. It reminds me of the way he sounded right after we broke up—polite,
(Clarice’s POV)In the middle of taking a cold shower, the cloud of confusion that had settled over me all week was overwhelming. All I could think about was James—We had a good thing going, he loved me, and I never had to question it. He made me laugh till I cried and my insides hurt. He knew me. He carried me. When I was overwhelmed, he knew how to calm me. He knew how to warm me. He knew how to touch me. He knew where to touch me. When we made love, it was magic, it was insane. He was the only one who really knew how to satisfy me. Now, everything just keeps flooding back and I cannot help but think back to how good things were. James was my person. He was for me. Back then, I always knew that. Why did I have to mess it up? Why did he have to bring up Italy? Damn. I need to get out of the shower before something happens.I haven’t been this confused in a while. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t Clarice who always has everything
(Clarice’s POV) I liked Ryan. He was fun, easy to chat with, and objectively good-looking. If I were the type who just wanted a casual fling—no strings attached, no emotional baggage—he’d be just right. The sort of guy who could keep things light, who wouldn’t ask for more than I could give. But I wasn’t that person, not anymore… and as much as I tried to tell myself otherwise, the reality was undeniable. James was back in my life. Not in the way it had been before, but still present. Unavoidable. And no matter how hard I insisted that the past was just that, that I had moved on, the truth lingered like a shadow. My feelings for him had never really faded. They had softened, perhaps. Diminished at the edges over time. But suddenly, they were raw again, like an old scar ripped open. As if the last few years were just a fleeting pause. Like I had simply closed my eyes for a moment, and upon opening them, everything I had buried surged back, fie
(James’s POV)I told myself I wasn’t going to think about it.It was nothing.Just small talk.Clarice meeting Ryan barely mattered, and it definitely wasn’t meant to concern me. I shouldn’t have cared. I had no reason to.Yet, here I was, two days later, still feeling very pissed. At first, I convinced myself that my annoyance was because Ryan met Clarice before I could even wrap my head around seeing her again. That seemed reasonable, right? I was still struggling and coming to terms with this whole situation, and now there was someone else witnessing my personal chaos. And he wasn’t even discreet. All the time I was at my apartment, I could count how often Ryan and I crossed paths. And now, he’s just lounging around since Clarice got there? Pathetic. As if it were so simple. I tried to brush it aside and concentrate on my work. My inbox was overflowing, my phone buzzing with meeting pings, and I had a design presentation looming for the community c
(Clarice’s POV)I should have known better than to share anything with Anna.“YOU DID WHAT?”I wince and pull the phone away from my ear as her voice nearly shatters my eardrum. “Calm down,” I say, but I know it’s a pointless request.“Calm down? CALM DOWN?” Anna practically yells. “You had a coffee outing with James’s neighbor? His actual neighbor?”“It wasn’t a date,” I reply, rolling my eyes.“Oh, come on. If a guy asks you to get coffee and you say yes, it’s a date. That’s, like, the universal rule of coffee invites.”I sigh, shifting on the couch. “It was just coffee. We ran into each other when the power went out, and he suggested grabbing a cup sometime. That’s all.”Anna lets out a dramatic gasp. “This is it. This is how it begins. First, it’s ‘just coffee.’ Then, it’s ‘just dinner.’ And next thing you know—bam—you’re somehow falling into his bed, and now you’re dating James’s neighbor.”I rub my forehead. “You’re being melodramatic.”
(James’ POV) I didn’t think I’d be back here so soon. Standing outside my own apartment—except it didn’t quite feel like mine at the moment—was strange. The key was in my hand, but I hesitated before turning it in the lock. I could hear soft typing from within. It felt odd, hearing life in my space when I wasn’t the one creating it. Finally, I turned the key and stepped inside. Clarice was sprawled on the couch, laptop perched on her knees, her legs curled beneath her. She didn’t look up right away, too engrossed in whatever was on the screen, but when she did, her eyebrows arched slightly. “Oh.” She blinked, surprise lighting up her face. “Hey.” “Hey,” I replied, closing the door behind me. I strolled past the couch, noticing the subtle differences in my space. A neatly folded throw blanket was draped over the armrest, and a vanilla-scented candle flickered on the table. Even the kitchen counter had her influence—neatly stacked notebooks an