"Is that something people casually talk about?" Grace Barron rubbed her temples with a sigh. "Miss apple, you really don't treat me like a stranger at all."
Let's Fight: "No no, it's just that my girlfriends and I thought we were asexual because we never felt anything. Then we bought some toys online together and found out the truth—it wasn't us, we were just really bad at it. But this one? It's legit. Multiple modes. One of them has to work for you."
Did she just say… they did it themselves?
Grace blinked, spine flushing with an inexplicable heat. She found herself staring at the ceiling for a moment, trying to steady her thoughts.
This "Miss apple" was truly… fearless.
Luckily, the topic shifted just in time.
Let's Fight: "By the way, I saw a Maple Lounge promo on your Moments. Are you the owner there?"
Grace: "No, just posted it for a friend. She treated me to some drinks today, so I returned the favor."
Oakley Ponciano had been lounging in bed listening to music. When she saw that message from deep sea, all her attention snapped to the screen.
Oakley: "Wait—you went there today too?"
Grace walked over to the sofa. "Yeah. You said 'too,' so... you were there as well?"
Let's Fight: "Yup! Small world. If I'd known you were there, I'd have looked for you to share a drink."
Grace: "Really? I doubt you would've wanted to see me."
Grace had always had a knack for sensing people's deeper emotions. Most of the time, she wasn't wrong.
Oakley had been absentmindedly playing with a strand of hair when that message came through. Her fingers paused mid-twist.
Was she really that transparent? Had Grace seen straight through her polite indifference?
Oakley: "What makes you say that?"
Grace: "Because you're guarded right now. Layered in armor. There's no way you'd meet up with someone you just started talking to. If you were actually eager to see me, you'd have dropped some piece of personal info. But I'm still firmly in your observation zone. Even if we were at the same bar, at best you'd lurk from the sidelines and try to read me from afar."
Oakley stared at the screen, speechless.
She'd only thought Grace was clever with words—she hadn't expected this level of emotional precision.
It was as if deep sea had known her for years, not days.
Once, Oakley had been naive—too trusting. Until he happened. That changed everything.
Oakley: "Damn, that's eerily accurate. Now I'm really curious—who are you?"
Grace: "Just a nobody."
Let's Fight: "You're being modest."
Grace: "No, I'm really not."
Grace glanced at the time and typed:
Grace: "Anyway, I need to sleep. We'll talk more next time?"
Oakley had just started typing. She stared at Grace's message, sighed, and deleted everything.
Oakley: "Goodnight."
Seriously? Already? They'd barely begun talking.
And then it hit her.
Why did she feel reluctant to stop chatting with someone she'd only just added?
That had never happened before.
She was losing her mind.
Grace set her phone aside, showered, slipped into a soft cotton pajama set, and crawled into bed. She prided herself on her discipline. Unless she was emotionally wrecked, she never stayed up past midnight.
The new week came and went in a whirlwind of work.
And just like that—Saturday.
Grace woke early, dressed neatly, made herself a hearty breakfast: pumpkin soup and a spinach-cheese omelet. Just as she finished, the cleaning team rang her doorbell.
She welcomed them in, gave them a quick rundown, and they got to work.
By midday, Grace officially moved.
Lake Aurelius was a new Chinese-modern villa district in Skylark, designed by a famous architect. The blend of classical elegance and clean modern lines made it a serene, dreamlike place. Bonsai trees, koi ponds, gentle slopes—all a seamless blend of tradition and sophistication.
Her particular villa wasn't far from the main gate. Glass, white walls, and good wood shaped the exterior. The lines were fluid, the structure well-proportioned—elegance wrapped in understated strength. The courtyard overflowed with greenery, framed by ancient pines and sculpted potted plants.
Past a lotus-filled pond and up a low stone step, Grace opened the door and supervised the movers, who quickly finished unloading.
Luckily, she didn't own much clutter—most non-essentials had already been discarded. In less than three hours, everything was perfectly arranged. Her new home looked neat, warm, and lived-in.
She settled cross-legged in the tea room just off the courtyard, warmed the teapot, measured out the leaves, and poured hot water into the clay pot. The scent of fresh tea floated upward.
Years ago, she'd almost sold this place to appease her then-girlfriend.
Looking back now, it felt absurd.
Love could really make someone foolish. Thank god she didn't go through with it. This was the only house that truly felt like home—and it was popular, too. Selling was easy; buying it again? Not so much.
She sipped from her cup, the heat calming. Just as she set it down, her phone buzzed.
Let's Fight: "Have you eaten dinner?"
Grace: "Not yet. Why?"
Let's Fight: "Perfect timing."
Before she could ask, two pictures came through—one of a colorful meal, one of a fancy drink. The plating was dazzling.
Grace: "Looks like someone had a good payday. That's a pretty fancy place."
Let's Fight: "Yep. Worked twelve hours straight. Made 800 bucks. I earned this. Sometimes you gotta indulge to stay motivated."
Grace chuckled and sent a picture of her teacup in return.
Grace: "Jealous. I just finished assembling furniture. I'm so broke I'm sipping tea to fill my stomach."
Let's Fight: "Wow. You're so poor. All you can afford is a tea set that costs thousands."
Grace lifted her brow, glancing at the cup in her hand.
Busted.
This woman noticed everything.
Grace: "Takes one to know one."
Let's Fight: "By the way, I never asked—what's your orientation?"
Grace: "Women. But really, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not interested in dating right now, so no worries there."
Let's Fight: "Why not? Enlightened and over it?"
Grace thought briefly of her ex and sighed.
Grace: "I poured everything into it. I'm just... drained. Now I just want a quiet life."
Let's Fight: "That bad?"
Grace: "Five years chasing her. Six months together. Then she cheated. I'm done."
Let's Fight: "Damn. I thought I had it rough, but you win."
Grace: "What about you? Why not dating?"
Let's Fight: "Men and I don't mix."
Grace: "Huh?"
Let's Fight: "Every guy thinks I'm cute and bubbly—until they get close. Then they realize I'm actually a sledgehammer in lipstick."
Grace nearly choked on her tea laughing.
Let's Fight: "I mean, I think I'm into men. Hot guys make me scream. But once we start talking? Forget dating. We can't even stay friends."
Grace: "Why?"
Let's Fight: "Apparently I'm too blunt. They say I crush their hearts like a wrecking ball every time I open my mouth."
Grace: "Sounds dramatic."
Let's Fight: "I attract control freaks. And when they try to 'tame' me, I unleash the spice. Then it's over. Every time."
Grace laughed outright this time. She didn't know much about this woman yet, but honestly, life with someone like that would never be boring.
Grace: "What if you marry a woman and suddenly fall for a man again?"
Let's Fight: "Not happening. PTSD. Last guy almost killed me. I like being alive, thanks."
Grace: "Fair enough."
Let's Fight: "Okay, your turn—tell me your hobbies. Let's really get to know each other."
Grace: "I don't have many. Reading. Movies. Good food. Travel. Yoga. Running. A little hiking."
Let's Fight: "That's actually a lot—and very healthy."
Grace: "Wrenching furniture needs a fit body."
Oakley shook her head, amused.
Grace: "What about you?"
Let's Fight: "Same. Reading, films, food. But I started working out lately. For health."
Grace: "Nice. What kind?"
Let's Fight: "Just jogging. I'm heading out for a night run soon. Even wore my sporty gear all day."
Grace: "Good idea. But avoid quiet routes. It's late—and not always safe. There's been news recently."
The message hung for a while.
No reply.
Grace sipped her tea and waited.
Meanwhile—
Oakley stared at the message, blinking. She'd typed a polite "Thanks, I'll be careful"…
And deleted it.
She usually didn't get interested in people this quickly.
But deep sea? Different.
Was she tall? Short? Curvy? Slim? Light or dark?
She had no idea. No photos. No clues. Nothing to go on.
And yet—she wanted to know.
Really wanted to.
After a moment of hesitation, Oakley pursed her lips, then typed:
Oakley: "You're right, it's not very safe. So... do you want to come keep me company?"