I didn't even know why i was in the parking lot.
Like—seriously, what was i doing there? I wasn't parked. I don't have a car. I don't drive. And yet there i was, in the basement of the condo, dressed in a cute butter yellow cropped cardigan and a matching pleated skirt, hair half-clipped with a pearl pin, looking like i had a purpose.
I did not.
Except maybe… to check if Cairo's mysterious, sleek, traitorous, black sportscar had arrived.
That, apparently, was a purpose now.
"Is this a Stalker behavior?" I mumbled under my breath, tiptoeing between SUVs like i was on a secret mission.
My little white flats made these embarrassing squishy noises with every step, like they were judging me. "No, Elara. You're just… casually observing the ecosystem. Of parking lots. For research."
Right.
And i just happened to be in full makeup and my favorite Chanel sling bag because i totally had errands at 7:15 in the morning.
And then—
SQUISH.
My entire body froze.
No. No way.
That didn't just happen.
I slowly looked down.
And there it was.
The crime scene.
A massive, horrifying, absolutely rude brown pile. Right under my right foot. It oozed around the sides of my white flats like it was personally offended i dared to exist.
I gasped.
One hand flew to my mouth.
The other clutched my bag like it was about to faint.
"Oh my god," I whispered, nearly gagging. "I stepped on a landmine. I stepped on a freaking landmine. Why is there poop here? WHO ALLOWS THEIR DOG TO DEFECATE IN A CONDO PARKING LOT? DO THEY THINK THIS IS A FOREST?"
I held my leg up like it was detached from the rest of my body.
I couldn't even scream.
My throat closed from the betrayal of it all.
Of course, I didn't have tissue. Or alcohol. Or—oh god, I didn't even bring wipes because i wasn't supposed to BE HERE.
I looked around helplessly.
Not a soul.
Not a single witness to my demise.
"I am a victim," I muttered, hopping on one leg toward a random pillar. "This is a hate crime. This is personal. The universe is mad i was checking Cairo's parking spot."
Oh my gosh!.
What if Nadine owns the dog?
That would just make everything make sense. All of it.
The mysterious poop.
The bad vibes.
The way her lip gloss shade yesterday made her look like she chewed crayons.
I squatted near the pillar like a wounded Disney princess and took off my shoe with two fingers, the kind of grip you'd use if someone told you it had a literal curse on it.
I was shaking.
Not from fear. But from injustice.
And then i heard it.
Footsteps.
No. No way. Don't tell me—
"Elara?"
It was him.
The audacity of the universe.
The complete, shameless, utterly evil audacity.
I looked up and saw Cairo. Walking toward me. Holding a coffee cup. Wearing joggers and a black zip-up jacket, like he just came from a run. Or a modeling shoot. Or a commercial for heartbreak.
He froze when he saw me crouched beside the pillar, holding one poop-covered flat like i was mourning a fallen soldier.
"Are you… okay?"
I blinked at him. "Do i look okay to you?"
He tilted his head. "Are you crying?"
"No! I'm not crying," I sniffled. "I'm gagging. There's a difference."
He looked down at my shoe.
Then at my face.
Then back at the shoe.
"Oh," he said. And that was it.
Oh. As if i didn't just step on a cursed object that would haunt my dreams forever.
"Your face isn't even reacting!" I snapped. "Do you have emotions, Cairo? Or are you just permanently set to 'blank stare' mode?"
His lips twitched.
I swear it.
He was fighting a smile.
But he just took a slow sip of his coffee and said, "Stay there."
As if i was planning to waltz around barefoot on poop-smeared concrete like it was Fashion Week.
He disappeared for a minute.
I dramatically sighed at the pillar.
And then—he came back.
Holding—oh my god—a whole roll of tissue, wet wipes, and a bottle of alcohol spray.
"Is this your emergency poop kit?" I asked, genuinely amazed.
"No," he replied. "But you looked like you were about to lose your mind, so i figured i should help before you passed out."
"Too late," I said. "My soul already left my body."
He crouched down next to me.
Not too close. But enough that i caught a whiff of his cologne again—the same one from the elevator. Woodsy. Clean. Sinful.
"Give me your shoe," he said.
I blinked. "What?"
"Your shoe. Come on."
"You're going to touch it?"
"I've held worse things."
"Like what? Your conscience?"
That earned me a soft exhale.
Which was his version of laughing, I guess.
He carefully wiped the sole of my flat like it was a science experiment.
I just stared at him.
Like, really stared.
Because what kind of man does this?
Cairo—the same guy who barely looked at me, barely talked to anyone, and barely opened his door for my detective-level neighbor interrogation—was now cleaning poop off my shoe like it was no big deal.
"Okay," he said after a minute. "All clean. But you owe me coffee."
I narrowed my eyes. "I don't drink coffee." But of course that's a lie.
"Then iced chocolate. Or whatever it is that people like you drink."
"People like me?"
"Dramatic. Loud. Slightly unstable."
"Excuse me," I said, snatching my shoe back. "I am not unstable. I am animated. And you love it."
He stood up, offering me a hand.
I looked at it suspiciously. "If i take that, does this mean i'm marrying you or something?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to?"
I GASPED.
"Cairo! That is harassment!"
"It was a question."
"You're so unfair. Just because you're tall and mysterious and clean up after poop doesn't mean you can emotionally damage people at morning."
He said nothing. Just smirked.
A real one.
Like, a full-on, lips-curving, eyes-twinkle, teeth-showing smirk.
I almost screamed.
But i didn't.
Because i still had my dignity.
Sort of.
Kind of.
Anyway.
We walked back toward the elevator, me limping a little because trauma, and him sipping his coffee like this was just a normal Tuesday.
It was not.
It was a sign.
The ship of Elara and Cairo was sailing.
And this poop incident? This was our origin story.
-
"I can't believe i stepped on poop," I muttered for the fifth time while sitting on a throw pillow i bought in Bali for aesthetics, not comfort. "Literal poop, Ari. I looked down, and boom. Crime scene. On my heel. Like a Chanel tragedy waiting to happen."
"You already told me," Ari replied, drying my shoe with a hairdryer. "Three times. With sound effects."
"But i haven't told you what happened after," I whispered, eyes widening as i hugged my knees on the couch, still in my cherry blossom pink co-ord set—wrinkled from the emotional distress, obviously.
Ari paused. "You mean the part where you almost cried in front of a parking attendant?"
"Not that!" I waved my hands. "The part where i saw—wait for it—his car."
Ari froze, dramatic as ever. "No."
"Yes."
"Don't tell me—"
"He was there." I leaned forward, voice full of scandal. "Cairo. Was. There. Parked like he didn't just drive off yesterday with Satan's niece hugging him."
Ari's eyes went big. "OHMYGOD."
"I know!"
"Did he see you?"
"No. But i saw him. Well, not him-him. His car. But like, same emotional damage and he saw me and he help me clean the poop in my flat shoes."
Ari turned off the hairdryer and held up my newly cleaned shoe like it was a glass slipper. "Girl, you cannot keep emotionally stalking this man."
"Emotionally? I was in the parking lot! That's physical proximity, thank you!"
He stood and handed me the shoe like i was Cinderella.
I slid it on with a sigh, then fell back dramatically on the couch.
Ari walked over to my snack drawer—yes, I have a designated drawer just for potato chips and imported Japanese chocolates—and pulled out a bag of cheesy curls. "So what now? We wait by your window and see if he comes out again?"
I stared at the ceiling. "No. We pretend to be normal. Chill. Breezy. Not obsessed. Which means..." I paused, sat up slowly, and gave him a look.
Ari groaned. "You're going back down, aren't you?"
"Just for a walk. I mean, hello? I pay condo dues too."
"Elara, it's ten a.m."
"Exactly! Morning walk. Main character behavior. I'll even wear sunglasses."
Ari stuffed cheesy curls in his mouth and followed me as i floated to my bedroom like a woman reborn. "This is unhealthy," he said through the crunch. "But entertaining."
I slipped on my oversized sunnies, grabbed a green juice i had no intention of drinking, and fluffed my hair.
It was time for Operation 'Look Casual While Totally Hoping for a Cairo Encounter.'
-
I wasn't even halfway to the elevator and I already regretted bringing the green juice. It looked like pond water, and worse—I forgot i hated kale.
But whatever.
I needed a prop.
Something to say, "I'm healthy, emotionally stable, and definitely not spiraling over a man who might be dating a woman who once tried to slap me on set."
"You're squeezing that bottle like it personally hurt you," Ari whispered as we waited for the elevator.
I glanced down.
True enough, the green juice looked like it had survived a war. "It deserves it," I muttered. "Kale is a scam."
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open and, as usual, I walked in with my signature sway—soft, breezy, like i just finished Pilates and was glowing from self-love, not caffeine and revenge fantasies.
But the second we hit the lobby floor, something felt... off.
Ari noticed it too.
"Why are we walking like detectives?" he asked as we took the long route around the pool area just to "casually" loop back into the private hallway leading to the penthouse wing.
"Because Cairo's car is parked. Meaning he's upstairs. Meaning—"
"She might be too," Ari finished, side-eyeing me.
I nodded, then took a deep, soul-cleansing breath through my nose. "Okay. If we see her, we smile. We keep it classy. And we pretend we didn't almost have a mental breakdown over a car."
"Copy that," he said. "Classy. Unbothered. Slightly constipated expression."
We turned the corner.
And there she was.
Her.
Nadine. In an oversized hoodie that was definitely not hers, unless she suddenly grew six feet overnight and wet hair twisted up in a clip.
She looked like she just stepped out of a romantic K-drama. The "I spent the night in Oppa's house" aesthetic.
No.
I froze mid-step like i had just been hit by a tranquilizer dart.
Ari almost crashed into me. "Bro, walk. She's coming this way."
My fingers tightened around the green juice. My jaw twitched.
My soul left my body.
She didn't even pretend to be subtle. She knew i saw her. And worse? She smirked.
Like an actual villainess.
Like i was the one being dramatic when she was the one committing emotional treason.
Ari grabbed my elbow before i lunged. "Classy. Classy. CLASSY, Elara."
I fake-smiled so hard my cheeks trembled. "Oh. Hi, Nadine. Early morning jog?"
She blinked innocently. "Oh, hi. No jog. Just... stayed over. Cairo made waffles."
She said it like i was supposed to care.
Like my spirit didn't just crack in half.
Ari's nails dug into my arm. I was going to need concealer for that later.
"Wow," I said through my teeth. "How… cozy."
"Right?" She brushed a nonexistent crumb off her borrowed hoodie. "Anyway. See you around."
And then she waltzed out like she owned the world. Or worse—his hoodie.
The moment she was out of view, I turned to Ari and screamed.
Not out loud. Just, you know, emotionally.
"She wore his hoodie. HIS HOODIE, ARI. That's like emotional first base!"
He patted my shoulder like i just lost a national pageant. "Come on. Breathe. Want me to get your scented humidifier?"
"I want her banned from the building!"
"Elara."
"I want her arrested for crimes against my mental health!"
He looped an arm around me as we walked back toward the elevators. "Come on. Let's go back upstairs before you challenge her to a dance-off or something."
"No, wait—" I stopped.
"What now?"
I pointed.
Standing just a few feet from where Nadine had strutted off like the queen of all things petty... was Cairo.
Tall. Calm. Leaning casually against a marble pillar like he didn't just send me into my eighth identity crisis of the week.
Wearing a black hoodie.
A different one.
But still.
Hoodie discourse activated.
Our eyes met.
And time slowed.
Okay not really, because some maintenance guy pushed a cart in between us with a mop bucket and ruined the moment.
But when the cart passed, Cairo was still looking at me.
Brows lifted.
Like he'd seen the whole scene.
Like he knew.
"Elara," Ari whispered. "Abort. ABORT."
Too late. I was walking toward him. On instinct. Like an actress heading toward her final close-up.
Cairo didn't move.
Didn't smile.
Didn't smirk.
He just looked.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Tall.
Which was frankly rude of him.
"Morning again," I said, pretending i wasn't dying inside.
He nodded. "Saw you downstairs earlier."
Of course he did. I was walking intentionally while waiting for a bitch to come.
"Green juice?" he asked, eyeing the still-squished bottle in my hand.
I blinked. "It's... health."
He raised an eyebrow. "Looks like envy."
I almost choked. Was that a joke? A pun? A sign of life?!
But i couldn't react. Not now. I had to keep my composure.
"Well," I said, adjusting my ponytail, "tell your hoodie thief i said hi."
His lips parted like he was going to respond—
But i turned around and walked off.
Like a queen.
A queen with kale juice, emotional damage, and an Ari-shaped emotional support system following behind her.