= Sarah POV =
As Chris slept, I called Ms Takahashi and requested an emergency cleanup. A team arrived within an hour, and as I sat, holding onto Chris' hand, I could hear people gasping, and a flurry of voices of alarm and concern followed while the sound of intense cleaning up took place outside.
Ms Takahashi called me to ask me where Chris was, so I opened the door and allowed her to come in and see that Chris was indeed ok, sleeping on my bed.
After explaining the situation to Ms Takahashi outside, things quietened down, the reproachful and suspicious looks I was getting softened into concern and worry, and the voices quietened down in order to not disturb Chris sleeping soundly in the other room.
After two hours, the entire place was stripped of all the furniture and cleaned, as if it was a brand new showroom flat, and Ms. Takahashi told me to go rest with Chris.
By the time I woke up again later that day, new furnishing and fixtures had been moved in, restoring the apartment to its former glory.
I thanked Ms Takahashi for her help, and returned to my room.
I stood in the center of my room and let out a weary sigh, my gaze settling on the bed where Chris lay, still fast asleep. The clock read 4 a.m. The night had unraveled into something I never could have predicted, leaving me exhausted, aching, and tangled in frustration. This wasn't how I had imagined things would end.
For a few moments, I just stood there, caught in the quiet, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Then, with a heavy heart, I slipped off my shoes and climbed into bed beside her.
The moment I lay down, Chris instinctively wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me close. The warmth of her body, the familiar press of her embrace—it shattered whatever composure I had left. Silent tears slipped down my face, my chest tightening with the sheer helplessness of it all. How had it come to this? Never in a million years would I have imagined Chris like this—so broken, so lost. And all because I had left.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady myself, but the weight of our tangled history was suffocating. This situationship—whatever it was—felt like a storm neither of us could escape.
Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I drifted into an uneasy sleep, my fingers clutching onto the arms wrapped around me as if holding onto her a little tighter might keep everything from slipping away.
I woke to the gentle sensation of fingers threading through my hair. A soft, rhythmic motion, soothing in its tenderness. I yawned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I slowly sat up.
Chris was sitting cross-legged against the wall, watching me.
"You're up," I murmured, stretching. "I hope you haven't been sitting there long."
Chris shrugged her expression carefully guarded. "I… not long." But the way she averted her gaze made me doubt that.
I stood and made my way toward the wardrobe before stopping abruptly, remembering—my clothes weren't there anymore. I exhaled a sigh, shaking off the momentary sting of the realization.
"Shall we have breakfast?" I asked instead, keeping my tone light.
Chris pulled her knees up to her chest, her fingers gripping her ankles. "Well, um… I guess we could order something." Her voice was uncertain, hesitant.
"Sure, I'll take care of it. Any preferences?" I sat back down on the bed, watching her carefully.
Another shrug.
I sighed and patted her knee gently. "I'll just get a little of everything, okay? You can eat whatever you like."
Chris nodded absently, and I reached for my phone, scrolling through a nearby bakery's menu. I ordered croissants, fruit tarts, an omelette, sausages, toast, and coffee—just in case the kitchen was as wrecked as the rest of the apartment had been. The restoration team had done an immaculate job putting everything back together, but I doubted they'd restocked the fridge.
Once the order was placed, I turned to Chris. "Is it okay if I leave you for a bit to take a bath?"
She stiffened, her fingers clenching around her legs. "Of course. Why would I stop you from showering?" She hesitated, then narrowed her eyes slightly. "Unless 'showering' is code for abandoning."
I leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "No, it just means I'm taking a shower." I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Chris lowered her head, burying her face in her arms. "Be careful. There's glass everywhere. I… I started showering at the spa a few days before… yesterday? I think?" She sighed heavily. "I forgot."
"It's okay," I murmured. "You haven't eaten or slept properly in a while. You're running on empty. Just take your time, alright? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
She didn't reply, and the silence between us felt heavy, filled with words neither of us were ready to say.
I stepped outside, taking in the pristine state of the apartment. It was eerie how perfect everything looked. The walls, the furniture, the décor—it was as if the destruction had never happened. If I hadn't seen the wreckage with my own eyes, or the bruises littering Chris' body, I might have thought it had all been a bad dream.
I wandered into her bedroom, inspecting the space. Everything had been restored here, too. The staff had even replaced some of her clothes, so I helped myself to a fresh blouse, jeans, and a towel before heading to the bathroom. The shower was brief but thorough, washing away the lingering exhaustion clinging to my skin. Once I was clean, I changed and set out new dishes for the delivery.
Fifteen minutes later, the food arrived. I placed the bags on the table, but before I could unpack them, I glanced toward the bedroom.
Chris hadn't moved.
She was sitting in the exact same position, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring at nothing. My heart clenched.
I walked over and gently pried her arms free. "Come on," I murmured. "Let's take a bath."
Chris blinked up at me, dazed. "Huh? But the bathroom is—" She trailed off as I tugged her up, her resistance melting as she slipped off the bed and followed me like a lost child.
When we reached the doorway, she hesitated.
"Will I be allowed inside again?" Her voice was small, filled with something that sounded an awful lot like fear.
I sighed. I needed to feed her. I needed to get her clean. And more than anything, she needed to rest. Seeing her like this—so fragile, so empty—made it hard to believe she was the same cunning, manipulative woman who once twisted every situation to suit her desires.
"Chris," I said, cupping her face gently. "There's no more contract. No more restrictions. You can enter any room you want, whenever you want. Especially if I'm in it."
Her eyes searched mine for something—certainty, maybe, or reassurance.
"Now," I murmured, brushing my thumb over her cheek. "Let's have a bath."
She nodded, finally stepping forward, following me out of the room.