Eliana's POV
Freshly showered and wrapped in borrowed comfort, I tiptoed out of the guest room, following the faint sound of clinking dishes and something delicious in the air.
I was looking for the kitchen.
I found… a fantasy. ✨
No, seriously.
There he was—
Hendrix Parker.
Hair slightly messy. Sleeves rolled up. Black shirt. Concentrated expression.
Cooking. 🍳
Like, really cooking. Stirring with purpose, moving like a man who knew his spices, flipping something in a pan with the grace of a K-drama second male lead who was about to ruin my life. 🎬🔥
Too much hotness. Too much confidence. Too much sauce—literally and emotionally. 🍝💥
I stood frozen in the hallway, watching.
And, of course, he noticed.
"You can come closer, you know," he said without turning, voice casual like he didn't just catch me thirst-watching him like a starving woman. "I don't bite. Unless provoked." 😏
I blinked. Cursed myself.
He still hadn't turned around, but the smirk was practically audible.
I cleared my throat. "I wasn't—uh—I just—was looking for the kitchen."
He finally turned. Eyes twinkling. That smug, evil smile spreading across his face. "Lucky for you, I come with one." 🧑🍳✨
I resisted the urge to slap my own forehead.
"Eliana," I whispered to myself. "Can you not get infatuated with every attractive man who makes carbs?" 🍜
I walked in. Sat on the stool he pulled out for me.
The view? Still dangerously distracting. 🪑👀
Then he placed a steaming bowl in front of me.
Cheese noodles. My weakness. 🧀🍝
He sat across from me and casually poured some extra ketchup over the top, like he hadn't just casually hacked into my soul.
I stared at the bowl, and just like that—my chest squeezed.
The dream.
Mutant butterflies. Gummy bears. My mom's lap. My dad's voice.
The way they used to love me. 🐻💭
I blinked down at the noodles, and the tears slipped out before I could stop them.
Damn it.
"Eliana?" Hendrix's voice sharpened with concern. "Is everything okay? If you don't like it, I can—"
"No, no. It's not that," I said quickly, blinking away tears.
He looked genuinely concerned. And I hated it.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I blurted before I could stop myself. 💔
He shrugged, a wicked grin pulling at his mouth. "Because you're my pregnant girlfriend. Obviously." 🤰🙄
I groaned. "You're never letting that go, are you?"
"Nope."
Before I could argue more, my stomach growled—loudly.
He raised an eyebrow.
"You really should learn to accept free noodles without questioning the emotional labor behind them."
"And yet," he added, "here I am. Cooking for you. Letting you cry into my ketchup. Guess I'm just a good boyfriend." 😌🍅
I looked up, flustered. "We are not dating!"
"You're right. My bad. You're the pregnant girlfriend who ghosted me after our scandalous café moment."
"Stop saying that!"
"You started it."
My stomach growled again.
Hendrix blinked, then smirked wider. "Is that the baby demanding food?" 🤰🍽️
"I will throw this bowl at you."
He reached for it. "Fine, I'll make something else."
"No!" I swatted his hand. "Don't touch it. I love cheese noodles."
"You do?"
"I love them. Especially with ketchup. I could eat this every day."
"Well," he said casually, "come by every day. I'll make them for you." 🤷♂️❤️🔥
"What?"
"You said you love them. I don't mind. I like cooking."
"I can't just come here daily for noodles."
"Why not?"
"Because—I don't know! That's weird!"
"You literally almost kissed me this morning."
"I did not!"
He gave me a look.
"Okay, I fell—and maybe accidentally grazed your—neck—but that's not the same!"
He grinned. "Come over every day. I'll cook."
"I can't just show up for noodles."
"Why not?" he asked, casually leaning against the counter.
"It's not practical."
"Says who?"
"Says… logic."
"Your logic is flawed. I make great noodles." 😎🍜
He was impossible.
Then he straightened and gestured. "Follow me."
"Where?"
"You'll see."
Like an idiot in a horror movie, I followed.
"You're acting suspicious."
"I'm not kidnapping you, Eliana."
"You better not be."
"If I disappear, Mia will find you."
"She'd probably thank me."
He opened a door and walked in.
I stopped.
A bedroom.
I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"If I wanted to do something with you," he said flatly, "I had all last night to try."
He had a point.
I stepped inside slowly.
He crossed to the curtains and threw them open. "Look."
I walked over, eyes adjusting—
then I froze.
My balcony.
Right outside the window.
"What the hell?" I whispered.
"Uncle told me to take care of his new tenant," Hendrix said smoothly. 🏡
"You're the owner's nephew?"
"Mm-hmm."
"You live next door?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Unbelievable."
"Fate," he corrected with a wink. 😉
I looked at him. Really looked.
The man who caught me in the rain.
Nursed me through a fever.
Made me cheese noodles with ketchup.
And now?
He lived next door.
This was… fate. Chaos. Coincidence. K-drama levels of plot twist.
And Hendrix?
Just smiled.
Like he'd been waiting for this moment since the day I ruined his latte. ☕💘
God help me.