It had been five days.
Five days since Kaen kissed me in front of that grandpa-looking general, declared me his live-in girlfriend, and then... said nothing else.
No explanation. No follow-up. No whispered clarifications by candles.
Just silence.
And yet, I stayed.
Because this house was mine. Sort of. Maybe. In a cosmic, morally ambiguous way.
And because, deep down, I thought—if I stayed long enough, if I didn't screw it up, if I played my cards with enough quiet endurance—maybe I could get it back. My house. My life.
But I was losing. Obviously.
Day One: Kaen told me I had to move out of the master bedroom. No discussion, no drama. Just a calm order like he was assigning chores.
I fought back. Verbally. Spiritually. Physically—by refusing to budge from my mattress like a stubborn ghost.
It didn't matter.
Rudy,that young man, showed up thirty minutes later like some golden retriever in human form, full of cheer and muscle. He gathered all my clothes, sketchbooks, and small sentimental trinkets like he was packing for summer camp. Tossed them into the guest room while whistling.
I protested. Loudly.
Kaen ignored me. Utterly.
And then, while Rudy held up my clothing like they were crime scene evidence, Kaen frowned.
"You call this a wardrobe?" he muttered, holding up one of Catherine's old blouses like it had personally offended him.
"This is heritage!" I snapped. "Fashion, curated from years of my cousin's questionable decisions, tailored by my friend Kim with blood, sweat, and thread."
It was true. Most of my wardrobe was either handed down from Catherine, found in vintage bins, or barely salvaged by Kim's design miracles. I'd long accepted a personal style best described as 'chaotic beige.'
Kaen gave me a long look.
Then waved a hand.
Rudy dumped the entire pile of clothes into a garbage bag and walked them out the door.
"Can I get reimbursed for emotional damage?" I yelled after Kaen.
No response.
Instead, he handed the matter over to Selene.
Yes. Selene. The woman who once tried to stab me.
To her credit, she didn't stab me this time. She returned later with a shopping bag full of black leather, cropped tops, and high-waisted jeans that looked like they required a six-pack to wear.
After double-checking that I wouldn't have to pay back for these luxury clothes. I nodded. I smiled. I accepted the receipt.
And that night, I quietly fished my garbage-bagged clothes out of the bin, hung them back in my wardrobe. (Of course, I'll be more mindful of my OOTD around Kaen.)
The new clothes stayed untouched, tags and all.
This was war. Silent, slow-moving, psychological war.
In the meantime, I turned into the world's most decorative squatter.
I curled up in the corner of my new room, surrounded by toast crumbs and my new phone—which, by the way, was nicer than anything I'd ever owned. It came preloaded with all the best drawing apps. The screen was huge. The stylus glided like magic.
Rudy peeked in sometimes, usually with a smoothie or a weird protein bar.
He once caught me drawing a ridiculous scene of Kaen brooding on a mountaintop, shirtless, with wolves howling in the background. He laughed so hard he almost dropped the smoothie.
"You're good," he said, squinting at the tablet. "Like... scary good."
"Thanks. Now get out."
He didn't.
He sat on the edge of the rug and pointed at the screen. "You ever sell this stuff?"
"Not really. Not yet."
"You should. You could make bank."
Maybe. Someday. When I had a bank account again.
It wasn't a bad life. Not really. I was warm. Fed. Left alone.
But Kaen? Gone.
He'd vanished after Day One. No sign of him. No text, no note. Nothing but the faint scent of pine left behind.
I didn't care.
Not too much.
And then—Day Five.
My phone rang. A familiar name.
"Kim!" I said, picking up, already smiling.
"You're alive!" he cried. "I was about to file a missing persons report. What happened? Did you fall in love with a bear trainer? Did Catherine finally sell you to aliens?"
I laughed. Sort of. But something tugged loose in my chest.
"I've been... hiding," I said. "Drawing. Thinking. Maybe nesting."
"Nesting is for birds and emotionally stable people. Neither of which you are."
"I miss you too."
When I hung up, the silence rushed back in.
Suddenly, everything felt too still. Too quiet. Too unreal.
Where was he?
I walked to Kaen's room.
It was empty.
Too empty.
The bed was made. The air was cold. The window was cracked open.
He hadn't come back.
Something heavy settled in my chest.
That night, I didn't sleep.
I sat up, sketching, ears tuned for footsteps.
And finally, just before dawn—
A soft thud.
I ran.
And when I opened the door—
There he was.
Kaen. Backlit by silver moonlight.
Bleeding.
Again.
End of Chapter 5.