By the time I reach the apartment, it's already past nine.
I rush inside, kick off my shoes, and tie my hair up with one quick twist. I wash my face, change into something comfy, then move on autopilot—cleaning a little, fixing cushions, lighting candles. My hands keep moving even when my brain lags behind.
Cake on the table.
One candle.
Decorations from the drawer, slightly crooked but cute.
I place the magazines neatly on the desk, tap them straight twice, then exhale hard.
"Pheww…"
I drop onto the couch for a second, staring at the ceiling. It feels like the same routine lately—waiting, preparing, hoping. That thought pokes at my mood, annoying and sharp.
I click my tongue. "Ugh. Whatever."
I sit up again, energy forcing its way back in. Today is a good day. A big day.
I smile to myself, get back on my feet, and adjust the lights.
Big day energy.
Jiang comes back around ten.
