LOGINShare
Chapter Two: The Ex-Factor
Last Updated:
2025-02-07 20:08:00(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 our differences, we managed to make it work. For a while. Then one day, we just… didn’t. I rake my hand through my hair, letting out a slow breath. A month in her space. I can manage that. Right? I remind myself it’s no big deal. That stepping into Clarice’s apartment won’t really affect me. That it’s just a temporary situation, a little mix-up I’ll look back on and chuckle about later. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t reflecting on our last encounter. The last argument we had. The moment I realized I was losing her—and that there was nothing I could do to change that. Flashback: Three Years Ago I used to think love was supposed to come naturally. That when you find the right person, everything simply… falls into place. And for a time with Clarice, that’s exactly how it felt. She was organized, driven, and always a step ahead of me—and I truly adored that about her. I loved how she meticulously prepared our outings, ensuring every detail was perfect. I appreciated how she made lists for everything, including what snacks we’d need for movie nights. How she left little notes on my coffee table, reminding me of deadlines I would likely forget otherwise. I thought she enjoyed my spontaneity. That I could encourage her to loosen up a little, to take a break from planning and simply enjoy the moment. But the issues began to unfold once we decided to live together. That particular night is ingrained in my memory—the night everything came to a boiling point. We were sprawled out on the couch, her laptop open, papers and schedules strewn across the coffee table. She was explaining 401(k) plans and long-term financial security—topics I knew were important, yet felt so distant from my aspirations. And then, like a fool, I blurted out the idea of moving to Italy together. I hadn’t meant to say it. The thought just… slipped out. She barely glanced up. “Sure.” “I’m being serious,” I insisted, placing my sketchbook aside. “A year, maybe two. I could tackle some design projects in Europe, and you could freelance. We could indulge in pasta, sip wine, explore—” “James.” She sighed, still focused on her typing. “That’s not how things work. You can’t just abandon everything and move to Italy.” I frowned. “Why not?” Finally, she looked up at me, as if I were a child needing a lesson in basic math. “Because people have dreams. And careers. And responsibilities.” “You can work from anywhere. You can, if it truly matters to you.” She scoffed. “That’s not the main issue here.” I felt a knot form in my stomach. “It’s just a suggestion, Rice. We used to talk about being spontaneous.” “Yeah, back when I was twenty-one and still figuring my life out,” she shot back. I stared at her, sensing a shift in the tension between us. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about us,” I said softly. She sighed, massaging her temples. “We’re just… different,” she said. “You want a fairytale. I crave stability.” “And you don’t think I can provide that?” I asked, knowing my question would just hang in the air, unanswered. ~ Present Day I let out a breath and check my phone, scrolling through my inbox. I should really reach out to Clarice. Just be polite. A simple, Hey, seems like we got ourselves into this mix-up. Hope your place is still as tidy as I remember. But I pause. Because the truth is, we haven’t spoken since we ended things. Not once. No Happy Birthday wishes. No “Hope all is well” texts. Not even a casual social media like. Nothing at all. And now, thanks to this unforeseen mix-up, we’re about to intrude on each other’s lives in a way that feels… oddly personal. I can’t help but wonder—what has her life become? Did she finally land that promotion she was working so hard for? Did she ever start traveling like she always dreamed of? Is there someone new in her life now? That thought alone sends a wave of unease through me, and I quickly push it down. It’s irrelevant. It’s none of my concern. This is just a month. A month of sharing spaces while she occupies mine. And if I happen to rummage through her kitchen drawers to see if she still keeps her spices organized, or if I check her bookshelf to see if she still arranges her books by color… Well. That’s just natural curiosity, right?Related chapters
The Ex-Change Chapter Three: Unfamiliar Territory
(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
Last Updated : 2025-02-07The Ex-Change Chapter Four: Welcome to the Museum
(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
Last Updated : 2025-02-07The Ex-Change Chapter Five: The Familiar Stranger
(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
Last Updated : 2025-02-07The Ex-Change Chapter Six: The Organizational Maze
(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
Last Updated : 2025-02-07The Ex-Change Chapter Seven: The First Call
(POV – Clarice)I had been expecting a lot of things since this whole apartment swap thing started. But what I wasn’t prepared for was a phone call from James Burrows—my ex—after months of silence.My phone rings just as I’m about to settle in with a bowl of ice cream and an old sitcom rerun.I frown at the unknown number, already prepared to decline the call because, let’s be honest, if it’s important, they’ll leave a message. But then, something makes me pause. A weird feeling in my gut. I hesitate, then swipe to answer.“Hello?”There’s a beat of silence, then—“Clarice.”I freeze. I know that voice. I know it too well.I squeeze my eyes shut. “James.”It’s the first time I’ve said his name out loud in… God, how long? Almost a year? And now, just like that, we’re talking again because of a stupid apartment mix-up. Fate needs a new hobby.“Yeah.” His voice is calm, casual even. As if this is just a normal, everyday call between two perfectly normal, well-adjusted adults. “I figured
Last Updated : 2025-02-07The Ex-Change Chapter Eight: The Event of the Burnt Chicken
(James’s POV)The moment Clarice slams the door in my face, I have to stifle a laugh. Some things never really change. I knock again, hoping she’ll come to her senses. “Rice.” “Go away.” I catch a faint whiff of something… smoky. “Do you smell something burning?” Silence. Then, muffled through the door: “NO.” That’s it—I can’t hold it in anymore. I laugh. Loud enough to annoy her, which only makes it better. “You know, if you were trying to impress me with your culinary skills,” I call through the door, “this is quite the tactic.” The door swings open. Clarice stands there, arms crossed, glaring up at me. And for just a second—just a second—I completely forget about the smoke and the charred whatever-it-is, and the fact that we haven’t seen each other in over a year. Because there she is. Hair pulled up in that messy bun she always does when she’s cooking. A smudge of something—flour? Salt?—on her cheek
Last Updated : 2025-02-11The Ex-Change Chapter Nine: Surviving the Night
(Clarice’s POV)The moment I shut the door behind James, I blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Then, I let out a groan. Loudly. Even I knew that that was — if I’m being honest — a dreadful idea. I should have never let him in. I should have just ordered takeout in comfortable silence and eaten it in my pajamas while binge-watching Abbott Elementary like everyone else. I definitely shouldn’t have invited my ex — the very same ex I hadn’t talked to in over a year — to dinner in my apartment. Well, his apartment technically.And yet. I look at the empty takeout containers on the coffee table, still hearing his voice echo in my mind. Still picturing the way he sneered every time he got under my skin. Still recalling how shockingly simple it was to slip back into old habits, as if no time had passed at all. And that’s exactly the problem. I sigh and run a hand through my hair. No use dwelling on it now. The evening is
Last Updated : 2025-02-11The Ex-Change Chapter Ten: Anna Banana(s)
(Clarice’s POV)I barely manage to take three steps into my apartment—James’s apartment—before my phone starts buzzing. I don’t even need to check who’s calling. There’s really only one person who senses only my most inconvenient moments, as if she has a sixth sense for when I need chaos in my life. “Anna,” I say, kicking off my shoes and flopping onto James’s couch. “This better be important.”“Oh, you can bet your ass it is,” she replies, her voice practically bubbling with excitement. “I just wrapped up my lesson plan for the week, and now I’m officially free to bother you.”Anna and I have been best friends since Sophomore year at college. She took me to my first party, learned how to do make-up via my face, slept in my bed through all her heart breaks, lived vicariously through mine and she hasn't been able to do without me since. Everybody knew that Anna was crazy.That's why it came as a shock to everyone else to find out that she had wanted to
Last Updated : 2025-02-11
Latest chapter
The Ex-Change Chapter Ten: Anna Banana(s)
(Clarice’s POV)I barely manage to take three steps into my apartment—James’s apartment—before my phone starts buzzing. I don’t even need to check who’s calling. There’s really only one person who senses only my most inconvenient moments, as if she has a sixth sense for when I need chaos in my life. “Anna,” I say, kicking off my shoes and flopping onto James’s couch. “This better be important.”“Oh, you can bet your ass it is,” she replies, her voice practically bubbling with excitement. “I just wrapped up my lesson plan for the week, and now I’m officially free to bother you.”Anna and I have been best friends since Sophomore year at college. She took me to my first party, learned how to do make-up via my face, slept in my bed through all her heart breaks, lived vicariously through mine and she hasn't been able to do without me since. Everybody knew that Anna was crazy.That's why it came as a shock to everyone else to find out that she had wanted to
The Ex-Change Chapter Nine: Surviving the Night
(Clarice’s POV)The moment I shut the door behind James, I blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Then, I let out a groan. Loudly. Even I knew that that was — if I’m being honest — a dreadful idea. I should have never let him in. I should have just ordered takeout in comfortable silence and eaten it in my pajamas while binge-watching Abbott Elementary like everyone else. I definitely shouldn’t have invited my ex — the very same ex I hadn’t talked to in over a year — to dinner in my apartment. Well, his apartment technically.And yet. I look at the empty takeout containers on the coffee table, still hearing his voice echo in my mind. Still picturing the way he sneered every time he got under my skin. Still recalling how shockingly simple it was to slip back into old habits, as if no time had passed at all. And that’s exactly the problem. I sigh and run a hand through my hair. No use dwelling on it now. The evening is
The Ex-Change Chapter Eight: The Event of the Burnt Chicken
(James’s POV)The moment Clarice slams the door in my face, I have to stifle a laugh. Some things never really change. I knock again, hoping she’ll come to her senses. “Rice.” “Go away.” I catch a faint whiff of something… smoky. “Do you smell something burning?” Silence. Then, muffled through the door: “NO.” That’s it—I can’t hold it in anymore. I laugh. Loud enough to annoy her, which only makes it better. “You know, if you were trying to impress me with your culinary skills,” I call through the door, “this is quite the tactic.” The door swings open. Clarice stands there, arms crossed, glaring up at me. And for just a second—just a second—I completely forget about the smoke and the charred whatever-it-is, and the fact that we haven’t seen each other in over a year. Because there she is. Hair pulled up in that messy bun she always does when she’s cooking. A smudge of something—flour? Salt?—on her cheek
The Ex-Change Chapter Seven: The First Call
(POV – Clarice)I had been expecting a lot of things since this whole apartment swap thing started. But what I wasn’t prepared for was a phone call from James Burrows—my ex—after months of silence.My phone rings just as I’m about to settle in with a bowl of ice cream and an old sitcom rerun.I frown at the unknown number, already prepared to decline the call because, let’s be honest, if it’s important, they’ll leave a message. But then, something makes me pause. A weird feeling in my gut. I hesitate, then swipe to answer.“Hello?”There’s a beat of silence, then—“Clarice.”I freeze. I know that voice. I know it too well.I squeeze my eyes shut. “James.”It’s the first time I’ve said his name out loud in… God, how long? Almost a year? And now, just like that, we’re talking again because of a stupid apartment mix-up. Fate needs a new hobby.“Yeah.” His voice is calm, casual even. As if this is just a normal, everyday call between two perfectly normal, well-adjusted adults. “I figured
The Ex-Change Chapter Six: The Organizational Maze
(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
The Ex-Change Chapter Five: The Familiar Stranger
(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
The Ex-Change Chapter Four: Welcome to the Museum
(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
The Ex-Change Chapter Three: Unfamiliar Territory
(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
The Ex-Change Chapter Two: The Ex-Factor
(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
