Y/N, after finally calming the house, walks confidently to the kitchen to prepare the dinner plate. She comes back after a few minutes, placing everything on the tray like a pro hostess.
Y/N (grinning as she walks in):
"Food is here! Everyone sit properly!"
Her younger siblings run toward the floor sitting area. Kim Bum is still on the edge of the sofa, clearly unsure whether to sit like he's on a set or in a royal court.
Y/N (teasing):
"Yes, Mr. Actor-nim, that means you too."
He quickly stands and follows, sitting cross-legged awkwardly between Y/N's Appa and her little brother.
Just then, Eman walks in and freezes mid-step when she sees him.
Eman(in complete shock):
"What– wait– HE'S STILL HERE?!"
Y/N (whispering with a deadly smile):
"Shhh. Amma already handled it. Appa allowed it. Now sit down before they change their minds."
Eman tiptoes like she's walking through a minefield, then sits beside Y/N.
*Y/N places the food down – fresh roti, arbi salan (spicy colocasia curry), raita, and salad. The scent fills the room and everyone starts reaching out.
Except... one person.
Kim Bum, still very polite but visibly confused, leans a bit toward Y/N and whispers slowly:
Kim Bum (softly):
"Umm… what is this? And… how do I eat it?"
Y/N stifles a laugh and leans closer to him, speaking softly but playfully.
Y/N:
"This is roti. And that's arbi salan. It's really good, don't worry. You just break a piece of roti like this—"
She demonstrates quickly.
"Then scoop the salan like this. No spoon. Trust the roti. It's teamwork."
He watches like he's being taught martial arts, nodding seriously.
Kim Bum:
"No spoon... teamwork. Got it."
Y/N (chuckling):
"You're a guest here. And rule number two: you have to try everything at least once."
He smiles back, a little shy but now more relaxed. He tears the roti slowly and follows her lead—messy, but trying. Her younger sibling watches him like he's watching a toddler eat for the first time.
Sibling:
"He's so bad at it."
Y/N:
"He's learning, okay?! Leave him alone."
Appa (smiling slightly) (in English):
"You eat well. We respect guests who eat with heart."
Kim Bum (sincerely, while chewing):
"Thank you, sir. This is... spicy. But tasty."
*Y/N exchanges a quick glance with her Amma who subtly signals behind Appa's back like — "Where did you bring this drama boy from?!"
Y/N silently bites her lip to stop herself from laughing.
(Kitchen, late night)
Plates clink, water runs, and soft murmurs float between Y/N and Eman as they stand by the sink — sleeves rolled up, working like clockwork.
Eman (stacking a clean plate):
"So… he's here. Where's he sleeping?"
Y/N (without looking up):
"Our room."
Eman (groans):
"Again?! That's not fair—my back still remembers the last time we 'slept' in the lounge."
Y/N (smirking):
"You'll live. This is temporary chaos."
Eman (squints):
"He better be worth the floor."
Y/N (playfully elbowing her):
"He's not just anyone. He's literally him."
---
(Living room)
Meanwhile, he sits politely on the edge of the floor cushion. Amma hands him a cup of warm milk, and Abba casually chats about the weather. Her younger sibling climbs onto his lap with a storybook like it's no big deal, and despite the surprise, he listens. A tiny smile even forms. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders begins to loosen.
---
( Y/N & Eman's room)
Still wearing the same kurta she wore during the chaos earlier, Y/N enters the room with a towel around her damp hands. Eman is already rolling up her blanket.
Y/N (sighs, stretching):
"So… shall we sleep now? I've got uni tomorrow and zero will to exist."
Eman (grabbing her pillow):
"Yeah, let's shift before he walks in and sees my hair like this."
They're halfway out the door when he steps in, blanket in hand. He pauses, seeing them clearly giving up their space for him.
Him (hesitant, voice low):
"Wait… You're giving me your room? You don't have to. I'm the one who caused all this, I feel bad—"
Y/N stops in her tracks, slowly turning to face him, eyes narrowing like a dramatic filmi heroine.
Y/N (mock-offended):
"Did you just say something?"
Him (blinking):
"…I said I feel bad—"
Y/N (gasps loudly):
"Wait. Wait. Did someone just disrespect my favorite actor in this house?!"
Him (stunned):
"What—? Favorite? Me?"
Y/N (arms crossed, full sass):
"Excuse me, Mr. Actor, you are in my house now. And house rule number two is: Don't. You. Dare. Feel. Guilty."
Eman (snorting behind her):
"Rule number one is 'Don't touch her hidden snack stash.'"
Y/N (nodding seriously):
"Exactly. And rule number three: Lounge sleeping is a professional sport for us. We're used to it."
He watches them, still looking guilty, blanket now pressed against his chest.
Y/N (softer now, pausing near the door):
"It's… maybe not as comfortable as your place. But I think… you'll like it."
That line. So casual, yet so sincere. It hits him deeper than she knows.
She doesn't linger, just flashes him a small smile and steps out. Eman is already waiting in the hallway, mumbling about mosquitoes and back pain.
He stands there for a moment longer in the quiet room — holding that warmth, that welcome, that strange pang in his chest.
He still wasn't asleep.
He had tried — truly — but he wasn't used to sleeping in unfamiliar places. The quiet hum of the fan, distant whispers of the night outside, and the fact that he was lying on a bed that wasn't his own made his thoughts wander restlessly. Still, he felt strangely comfortable — more than he expected to.
Creak.
The door opened slowly. He didn't move, only peeked through half-closed lashes.
Y/N walked in.
Still in last night's clothes, she looked like a cartoon character dragged out of bed by force. Her steps were soft, almost lazy, as she rubbed her eyes with one hand, the other reaching for the water cooler placed at the corner of the bed.
She sat down on the edge, barely inches away from where he lay.
Pouring water into a glass, she took a sip — and instantly froze.
"WHY pani garam kiyon ha?!"
(WHY the hell is this water hot?)
She stared at the glass like it had personally ruined her life.
He didn't understand the words, but her betrayed expression was loud. He bit his lip to stop a laugh. She looked like she was about to sue the water for emotional damage.
Grumbling under her breath, she stood up, stomped softly toward the freezer, and dropped in a couple of ice cubes with all the drama of a heartbroken heroine. Then muttered sleepily,
"Namaz ke baad tak thanda ho jaaye ga."
(It'll cool down by the time I finish my prayer.)
Just as she was leaving, she paused… turned back… and gave the glass one final, narrowed-eye stare. Her lips moved silently:
"Bewafa."
(Traitor.)
She exited.
---
The room fell silent again. He waited a few seconds before finally opening his eyes fully. His lips curled into a small, disbelieving smile.
"What kind of girl calls water 'bewafa' at 5:30 in the morning…?" he murmured under his breath, still amused.
---
A little while later…
Creak.
The door opened again. This time, Y/N entered fully awake and freshly changed, her hair tied up messily, face glowing slightly from wuzu. She walked straight toward the water glass sitting patiently with the now-melted ice and took a long sip.
Then let out a deep, satisfied sigh and chuckled softly,
"This… THIS is what we call morning."
He slowly sat up on the bed, his tousled hair falling slightly over his forehead.
She blinked, caught off guard. Their eyes met.
"Oh, you're awake?" she asked, slightly surprised.
He nodded slowly, voice low and soft,
"I wasn't… sleeping much anyway."
Y/N tilted her head, watching him with a half-smile, holding her now-loyal glass of water like a trophy.
"Hmm… let me guess — the bed's too soft for Mr. Fancy Actor?"
He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.
"Are you… mocking me first thing in the morning?"
"Absolutely," she said with a proud grin, then turned toward the door, her voice lighter now,
"Now hurry up, superstar. Breakfast scene starts in one hour. Don't be late or the villainous warm water might return."
And with that, she walked out, leaving him still sitting there, smiling.
He had no idea what this day would bring. But suddenly, he wasn't dreading it.