Chapter 14: Soft Places in a Hard World
Living together changed things.
Not dramatically at first. There were no grand declarations, no sudden confessions whispered in the dark. Instead, it was the small moments that began to pile up, quietly reshaping everything.
Mornings, for instance.
Ife woke before Arden the first day, slipping out of bed carefully. She stood in the kitchen, staring at the unfamiliar appliances like they might betray her. After five minutes of silent negotiation, she found the kettle and smiled in triumph.
When Arden wandered in, hair rumpled and eyes half-closed, the scent of tea already filled the air.
"You drink tea?" he asked, surprised.
"Is that a problem?"
"No," he said quickly. "It's… comforting."
She handed him a mug. Their fingers brushed, lingering just a second too long.
Neither of them commented on it.
They learned each other slowly.
Arden discovered that Ife hummed when she was focused, often without realizing it. That she talked to herself while reading. That she hated silence unless she trusted the person sharing it with her.
Ife learned that Arden slept lightly, woke at every sound, and always positioned himself between her and the door without meaning to. She noticed how he listened—really listened—when she spoke, like every word mattered.
One afternoon, she caught him watching her.
"What?" she asked.
He blinked. "Nothing."
She smiled. "You lie terribly."
He shrugged. "I was just… thinking how easily you fill space."
She tilted her head. "Is that good or bad?"
"Dangerous," he admitted softly.
Victor did not approve of the domestic peace.
"This is not a honeymoon," he reminded Arden over the phone.
"No," Arden replied. "It's worse. She rearranged my bookshelf."
Ife shouted from the other room, "You're welcome!"
Victor hung up.
The romance crept in like sunlight through cracks.
It was Arden brushing past her in the narrow hallway, his hand briefly resting at her waist to steady her.
It was Ife reaching up to fix his collar before he realized it was crooked.
It was laughter shared over burnt toast and inside jokes no one else would understand.
One evening, the power went out.
Darkness swallowed the apartment, sudden and complete.
"Don't move," Arden said instinctively.
"I'm literally standing still," she replied.
He found her hand in the dark, fingers intertwining naturally.
They stayed that way long after the lights flickered back on.
The moment that changed everything came quietly.
They sat on the couch, legs touching, a movie playing neither of them was watching. Ife rested her head against his shoulder without asking.
Arden stiffened—then relaxed.
He shifted slightly, letting her settle more comfortably. His arm moved around her, tentative but sure.
"Ife," he murmured.
She looked up. "Yes?"
"This… makes me careless."
She smiled softly. "Good. You need practice."
He laughed under his breath.
Their foreheads touched.
The kiss happened slowly, almost shyly—like a question rather than a statement. Soft. Unhurried. Real.
When they pulled back, neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
That night, they lay together fully clothed, close but restrained.
"I've never been good at this," Arden admitted.
"At what?"
"Letting someone stay."
She traced lazy circles on his chest. "You're doing fine."
Outside, Victor's voice murmured faintly through a device.
"All clear."
For once, Arden didn't flinch.
Love, Ife thought, wasn't always loud.
Sometimes it was quiet. Steady. Shared in stolen glances and gentle touches.
Sometimes it was choosing to stay when leaving would be easier.
And in a world that wanted to harden them both, they found something soft to hold onto.