The night had deepened.
The string lights above the garden cast a soft, golden glow, illuminating faces and drinks, laughter spilling into the cool evening air.
Ken was still talking to the group, his calm, effortless presence anchoring them.
I watched him for a moment, letting the warmth of his presence settle over the circle, before the quiet ache in my chest nudged me.
I pushed back my chair slowly, careful not to draw attention, but enough to make my movement noticeable.
"I think I'll head back to my apartment now," I said, voice calm, deliberate.
Keisha's head turned, her smile polite but warm. "Oh, okay. Nice meeting you, Ysabelle."
"Same," I replied, tone neutral, letting no warmth slip through.
Ken glanced at me, a faint crease of concern in his brow, but didn't say anything.
He simply nodded, letting me make my choice.
I stood, careful, deliberate, and felt the faint ache in my chest linger, the small, unwelcome echo of a feeling I refused to name.
I walked through the dimly lit hallways, past the fading laughter, past the soft hum of lights, past Ken's apartment now quiet.
The streets were empty, bathed in the silver glow of the street lamps.
My boots echoed against the pavement as I made my way back to my own apartment.
When I finally reached my door, I paused, hand on the knob.
The quiet inside awaited me, familiar, solitary, safe.
I opened it and stepped in, letting the soft hum of my apartment envelope me.
Hoodie slipped back over my shoulders, cap low, I exhaled slowly.
The irritation, the tension, the small spark of envy, it lingered, but it didn't consume me.
Not yet.
I was cold again.
Distant.
Fierce.
Calculated.
But beneath that, a small ember had been lit.
One I didn't need to name.
I set my beer on the counter, sliding into the quiet, letting the night settle around me, letting myself exist in my own space once more.