Grace stood by the staircase like a queen surveying her kingdom, watching as Nora and Naya struggled with two monstrous suitcases.
"Emily," she said, arms crossed, "show them to their rooms."
"Okay, Mom!" Emily said brightly, already halfway up the stairs. "Come on, guys!"
Naya grabbed her handle with exaggerated determination, glaring at the stairs like they personally offended her. Nora followed, trying not to laugh.
Then Grace turned to her son, who had been pretending to scroll on his phone since the suitcases first appeared.
"Lucien, help them with their bags."
Lucien looked up with mild confusion.
Before he could say anything, Naya cut in fast. "No, it's fine! We've got it. Right, Nora?"
She didn't even look at him.
"Yep," Nora replied, playing along. "We're good, Aunt Grace."
"You sure?" Grace asked.
"Absolutely," Naya said with a too-sweet smile. "Strong arms. Strong hearts. Zero need for backup."
Lucien gave her a look, but she didn't meet his eyes. She was too busy pretending he was a houseplant.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Naya's hair was frizzy, her arms were sore, and her dignity was clinging by a thread. Emily gestured casually to the doors.
"Naya, this one's yours. Nora's is right there. And Lucien's..." she pointed to the room just beside Naya's, "...is that one."
Naya froze.
She turned to Nora and muttered, "Wait—Lucien's room is next to mine?"
Nora shrugged. "Plot twist."
Naya narrowed her eyes. "Noted. Still doesn't matter."
"You okay?" Emily asked.
"Me? Oh yeah," Naya said, tossing her bag into her room like it was a bag of feathers and not 50 pounds of denim and regret. "Totally chill. Not even remotely flustered."
As soon as the door closed behind her, Naya threw herself face-down on the bed and groaned into the pillow.
Of all the rooms in this house. Seriously? Right next to him?
She sat up, pulled out her phone, and started a video call with her parents.
Her mom answered quickly. The screen filled with a dusty background and excited voices—children running around a shelter behind her. Her dad waved from beside a supply truck.after talking with her parents she lay on her bed craving hot chocolate,she stayed there for a while.
Finally, It was just past midnight. The house was silent, wrapped in that peaceful hush that only happens when everyone's asleep and Wi-Fi signals get mysteriously stronger.
Naya, wrapped in an oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, crept out of her room with one goal: Hot chocolate.
The craving hit like a spiritual calling. She tiptoed down the hall with expert silence—until her foot hit that same cursed floorboard that screeched like a wounded squirrel.
She froze.
A door creaked open behind her.
She didn't need to turn. She already knew.
Lucien stood in his doorway, hair a mess, wearing a black T-shirt and pajama pants, looking like he just walked off the cover of a sleepy teen drama.
They locked eyes.
"Hot chocolate?" he asked, leaning casually on the doorframe.
Naya blinked. "I—how did you know?"
"You look like someone on a snack mission."
She cleared her throat. "Well. You look like someone who doesn't mind his business."
Lucien smirked. "Touché."
They stood there in silence, both pretending the air wasn't heavier than it should be.
Then Naya turned. "I'm going. You don't have to follow."
"I was headed to the kitchen anyway."
She narrowed her eyes. "To get what?"
He shrugged. "Something to drink. Maybe juice. Maybe revenge."
Naya sighed and kept walking. "Just don't talk to me."
"Cool," Lucien said. "Not talking."
They walked side by side in silence.
The moment they reached the kitchen, Naya made a beeline for the mug shelf, reaching up on her toes.
Lucien, of course, stepped in like a tall person with no manners and casually grabbed it for her.
She took the mug without looking at him. "I didn't ask."
"You're welcome."
They stood there while the microwave hummed in the background.
"You still hate me?" Lucien asked suddenly.
Naya nearly dropped the cocoa powder.
She turned slowly. "Why would I hate you?"
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe because you avoid me like I'm contagious."
"I don't avoid you," she lied with expert skill. "I just don't... go where you are. Ever."
Lucien chuckled softly. "Right."
"You're the one who said no, remember? I got the memo. It's shredded. Recycled. Burned."
His smile faded just a little. "You don't have to act like we're strangers."
"I'm not acting," she said. "I'm just not interested in embarrassing myself again. Simple as that."
The microwave beeped.
Naya grabbed her mug and turned to leave.
Lucien didn't move.
"I never wanted to embarrass you," he said quietly.
Naya paused in the doorway. "Well, mission failed."
Then she walked back up the stairs, heartbeat loud in her ears.
Back in her room, she sipped the hot chocolate and whispered to herself:
"So over it. Totally over it. Yep. Unbothered queen."
From the hallway came a soft knock on her door, followed by silence.
She didn't open it.