Sarai noticed it the second she walked into the kitchen.
She stopped just inside the doorway, her bag still on her shoulder, her eyes scanning the space like something had shifted while she wasn't looking.
"…okay," she said slowly. "Something is different."
Nothing dramatic.
The layout was the same. The lighting hadn't changed. The house still felt like itself.
But—
There were small things.
The coffee maker was already set up.
Not just sitting there.
Ready.
Two mugs instead of one.
A container on the counter she hadn't seen before.
Sarai stepped closer.
"…no," she said under her breath. "We're not just casually doing thoughtful gestures."
She set her bag down and walked fully into the kitchen, her eyes moving over everything again.
The coffee was fresh.
Still warm.
She opened the container.
Paused.
"…fruit?" she said quietly. "Pre-cut fruit?"
She looked around like the answer might be hiding somewhere in the cabinets.
"…who did this?"
"I did."
Sarai turned.
Virek stood near the far side of the kitchen, leaning slightly against the counter like he had been there long enough to watch her figure it out.
She blinked.
"…you did this?"
"Yes."
She stared at him for a second.
"…why?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Sarai narrowed her eyes slightly.
"…that pause was suspicious."
"It's practical," he said.
She crossed her arms.
"…that's not the whole reason."
"It's part of it."
She stepped closer, stopping on the other side of the counter.
"…what's the other part?"
Virek held her gaze.
"You said routines matter," he said.
That landed.
Sarai blinked once.
Then again.
"…I did say that," she admitted.
"You were right."
She exhaled softly, looking back at the counter.
At the coffee.
At the fruit.
At the fact that this—
was intentional.
"…okay," she said quietly. "That's…"
She paused.
"…unexpected."
Virek didn't respond to that.
Sarai picked up one of the mugs, wrapping her hands around it like she needed a second to process.
"…you don't seem like someone who does stuff like this," she added.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," she said, glancing at him, "you seem like someone who wakes up and disappears."
"That's accurate."
"And yet," she said, gesturing lightly, "here we are."
Silence stretched.
Then—
"You live here," he said.
Sarai paused.
"…yeah."
"So it matters."
That was simple.
Too simple.
But it worked.
Sarai looked at him again.
Really looked this time.
"…okay," she said softly. "I see what you're doing."
"What am I doing?"
"You're adjusting," she said.
A small pause.
"Yes."
She nodded slowly.
"…I like that."
That earned a reaction.
Subtle.
But there.
Sarai caught it.
Of course she did.
She turned back to the counter, grabbing a piece of fruit.
"…don't let it get to your head," she added, taking a bite. "I'm still judging you."
"That's fine."
"It should be," she said. "I have standards."
"I noticed."
She glanced at him.
"…you did?"
"Yes."
Sarai smiled slightly.
"…good."
Silence settled again.
But this time—
it felt easier.
She leaned against the counter, taking another sip of her coffee.
"…so what now?" she asked.
"For now," he said, "we keep things simple."
She nodded.
"…I can do simple."
A pause.
"…for now," she added.
Virek's gaze held hers for a second longer.
"That's all we need."
Sarai smiled faintly.
And this time—
she didn't pretend she didn't notice the way he was looking at her.