A soft chime echoed through the quiet.
Amy blinked.
Her tablet lit up beside her — not from Lumi. Not from Risa.
[SARA – Incoming Message]
Amy hesitated, then tapped it open.
[Sara:
Hey. I was wondering… are you free tomorrow?]
Amy sat up straighter, caught off guard.
[Amy:
Tomorrow?]
[Sara:
I mean, if you're not busy saving the world again or whatever it is you disappear for.
I'd like to see you. Really see you. No party, no noise. Just us.]
A slow smile tugged at the corner of Amy's mouth.
[Amy:
You always text like you're stealing time.]
[Sara:
Maybe I am. But it's yours.
So?]
Amy stared at the screen for a long breath.
The Eden Core could wait one more day.
[Amy:
Yeah. Let's meet.]
[Sara:
Mid-morning? I'll pick the place.]
[Amy:
Mid-morning it is.]
She set the tablet down. For the first time since leaving the complex, she let her shoulders relax.
Just for a while, she would let the world be simple again.
When Amy stepped out of her room, time seemed to pause.
Dark green shirt, black vest, neatly knotted tie. Her pants were tailored but unobtrusive — practical. Everything was muted, crisp, hers. And somehow, she looked both composed and shy at the same time, like the moment had caught her off-guard despite all the preparation.
Lumi let out an audible breath.
Risa leaned forward, eyes widening. "...You're kidding me."
Amy glanced down at herself. "Is it too much?"
Risa stood, one hand to her heart, the other pointing. "You're dressed like a secret agent with a soft side. Sara's gonna malfunction."
Lumi grinned. "It's not too much — it's dangerous. That tie is going to live in my memory rent-free."
Amy blinked, unsure if they were making fun of her or not.
Risa nudged her. "Go change. You're making me feel underdressed just sitting here."
…
She came back in soft, loose clothes: oversized black t-shirt, slate-gray lounge pants, hair swept into a quick tie behind her head. Her posture relaxed. This was Amy 'without armor.'
She glanced at them and said simply, "I'll make something."
Lumi froze. "Wait… you mean—?"
Risa was already grinning. "Oh, she means."
Amy was halfway to the kitchen when Lumi jumped to her feet. "No way. No, no, no — she's cooking?"
Risa followed, mock-whispering, "We're about to dine in a five-star restaurant and pay zero dollars. You better sit your ass down and prepare your soul."
Lumi pressed her palms together. "I didn't know this day could get better—!"
Amy's voice drifted from the kitchen, dry. "You're both being dramatic."
"You're a miracle in human form," Risa replied, dead serious.
…
The sound of the kitchen came alive: water rushing, rice beginning to steam, vegetables hitting hot oil with a hiss. Amy moved like it was second nature — like every motion had already been rehearsed a thousand times. Her focus was clinical. Precise. She didn't check a recipe. She didn't need one.
Soy glaze thickened in the pan beside marinated beef that sizzled until the edges crisped. Amy layered in sliced ginger, garlic, spring onions — not too much, just enough. Next to it, cubes of tofu slow-simmered in a deep black bean broth with sesame, scallion, and chili threads floating on top like artistry.
The smell alone made the room go still.
Lumi sat at the table with her hands clasped under her chin like she was praying. "If heaven exists, it smells exactly like this."
Risa, eyes half-lidded, inhaled with reverence. "Don't talk. You'll ruin the moment."
Amy placed the first dish in front of them without a word — beef stir fry, rich and glossy, topped with a touch of citrus zest and paired with jasmine rice. Then came the tofu, plated with soft, deliberate care. A final drizzle of sauce, a sprinkle of scallions.
Risa picked up her chopsticks like she was handling holy relics.
"Okay," she murmured, "first bite."
They didn't speak after that — not because they didn't want to, but because every bite needed silence. Needed appreciation.
Lumi's eyes were suspiciously shiny by the third spoonful.
"This is illegal," she whispered. "I should not be allowed to eat this for free."
Amy leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to hide the small smile that curved her lips. "It's just food."
Risa put her chopsticks down. "It's not just food. This is what food wants to be when it grows up."
…
Later, bellies full and the warmth of the evening sunk deep into their bones, Risa rested her head against Amy's shoulder while Lumi sprawled on the couch like she'd just completed a pilgrimage.
"You didn't have to do all that," Risa said softly.
Amy's voice was almost too quiet to hear. "I wanted to."
"Still," Risa murmured, "thank you. For everything. Really."
Amy didn't reply. But she didn't move away either.
Just let them rest against her. Safe. Quiet. Full.
Tomorrow, the world would spin again. But tonight — it stopped, just for them.
…
The smell of lingering spices still clung to the apartment air by morning. Empty plates were stacked neatly on the counter, and the last cups of tea from the night before had long gone cold. Amy stood by the door now, dressed in the same outfit the three of them had debated over for half an hour the night before — the one Risa had dramatically declared "made her look like a dark magician CEO." Black button-up shirt tucked into fitted dark gray jeans, with a slim black tie and a belt that shimmered just slightly under the light. Her jacket hung loosely on her shoulders, and her boots — matte black, slightly worn, well-loved — completed the look.
Risa gave her a once-over and nodded in approval; arms crossed. "Still hot. Still deadly."
Lumi grinned. "Deadly as in drop-dead gorgeous or deadly as in stab-a-man? Because honestly, you've got both vibes going."
Amy rolled her eyes, but a faint flush crept to her cheeks. "Thanks for helping me not wear the exact same thing again."
Risa gave her a warm hug. "That's what we're here for."
Lumi followed with a hug of her own, tighter, longer. "You got this, okay? Just... be yourself. I mean, not the murder-goblin version. The one that makes her smile."
"I don't think I've ever been called a murder-goblin before," Amy muttered, and they all laughed.
At 9:30 AM, with the sun spilling golden through the blinds, the two girls said their goodbyes and stepped out. Amy watched them leave from the window, heart tightening in a way she didn't want to name. They'd helped her through every step — from choosing the tie to taste-testing her panic-cooked dinner — and now, it was her turn.
____________________________
Sorry for the delay.
Here are some chapter as an apology.