I woke up before my alarm.
For a second , I just lay there , looking at the ceiling. Nothing was different. Same room, same grey light coming through the curtain, same city noise from outside.
i just felt okay
The kitchen was already warm before i got there.
Zara was there too, standing by the stove.
She was making eggs.
The pan was too hot and the butter had gone brown but she hadn't noticed, or didn't care. She didn't hear me come in.
I poured myself a glass of water. She was still in her pajamas, frowning at the pan like it had personally offended her.
"You're burning it," I said.
"I'm caramelizing it," she said, without turning around.
"That's not what caramelizing means."
"Marcelin."
"Zara."
She turned the heat down and finally looked at me.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing," she said. She turned back to the pan. "You slept well."
"I sleep well most nights," I said.
"No you don't. You sleep like someone waiting for an alarm that might not come."
I didn't say anything.
She slid the eggs onto a plate and turned around, her arms were crossed and she was just watching me with that expression, Patient and slightly unbearable.
"So," she said.
"So," I said.
"Ethan," she said.
I took a long sip of water.
"We talked," I said.
"I can see that."
"We sorted things out."
"I can see that too."
"Zara."
"I'm not saying anything," she said, holding both of her hands up, with a spatula still in one of them. "I'm just standing here. In my kitchen. Eating my eggs."
"Our kitchen."
"Our kitchen," she agreed. She sat down at the table and pointed her fork at me. "You like him."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
I sat down across from her.
"He said he keeps getting in his own way," I said.
Zara chewed her eggs.
"Do you believe him?"
"Yeah," I said. "I think so."
"Okay," she said.
"That's it? Okay?"
"What do you want me to say?" She said.
"I don't know. Something dramatic. You're usually dramatic."
"I'm reserving judgment," she said. "I'm being mature about it."
I looked at her.
"You're dying to say something," I said.
"I have several things I could say. I'm choosing not to." she said.
"Since when?"
"Since I decided to be a supportive friend." She pointed her fork at me again. "I'm supportive. Are you noticing the support?"
I laughed. Zara can be hilarious sometimes.
Zara smiled a little.
.
"Just don't disappear into him," she said, quieter now. "You do that thing where you get focused on something and everything else goes blurry."
"I know," I said.
"I'm not saying don't like him. I'm saying don't lose the plot."
"The plot being?"
"You," she said. "The plot is you, Marcelin."
"I know," I said.
Zara held my eyes for a moment, then nodded once, like that was enough. Then she stood up, dropped her plate in the sink, and was already pulling her hair up as she moved toward the bathroom.
"Tell me my hair looks fine," she said.
"It looks fine," I said.
"You didn't even look properly."
"Zara."
"Okay, okay."
She was gone.
I sat at the table for a while. I couldn't stop replaying what Zara said.
"Don't lose the plot."
I thought about my dad. Whenever something good happened, he was the still the first person i reached for. Then i remembered he wasn't here, my thoughts slipped away for a second and I was back sitting at a kitchen table again, morning light coming through the window, the city already in full swing outside.
I thought about Ethan. The way he smiled, small and unsure, nothing fake about it. The way he'd said start over like it was a question he wasn't sure he had the right to ask.
I thought about what Zara said.
The thing was, she wasn't wrong.
I got up and made myself some eggs. The butter got burned slightly , but i left it anyway. I just sat there, looking at the city through the window , trying not to think too much.