The house was unusually quiet that morning.
Emily and Kelly had just left after a spontaneous sleepover, and Frederick had dashed off early to play football with some guys from his department. Pearl stayed back, determined to finally organize her course files.
She had her earphones in, humming lightly to herself as she spread her books across the center table, color-coding with sticky notes. The silence, for once, felt peaceful.
Until Jason's voice cut through it.
"You know this isn't a reading room, right?"
Pearl blinked, pulling out one earbud. "Excuse me?"
Jason stood by the kitchen door, towel around his neck, clearly just back from a jog. Sweat glistened on his forehead.
"I said—this is the living room. Not a personal library."
Pearl frowned. "I'll clean up. I'm just trying to be productive before my 12 o'clock."
Jason grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, chugged it halfway, then added flatly, "You've been turning this place into your hangout spot lately. Friends every night, loud laughs, snacks all over."
Pearl's eyes narrowed. "It was one night, Jason. And it's not like we were throwing a party."
He gave a sarcastic chuckle. "Still—this isn't your apartment. Try to remember that."
That one line stung.
Not because he was wrong, but because he was *right*—and that made her feel out of place all over again.
Pearl stood slowly, gathering her files. "Duly noted," she said quietly.
Jason glanced at her, surprised by the sudden calm. He expected a snarky comeback. But she was already walking away.
Back in her room, she sat on the bed, took a deep breath, and picked up her phone.
*Pearl:* *Hey Amanda. Can you take me to see Sheila's apartment tomorrow? I think I'm ready to move.*
The reply came quickly.
*Amanda:* *Girl, say less. You'll love it.*
Pearl stared at the screen, then looked around the small room that had been her temporary haven. She had been delaying the move—not because she was scared—but maybe because part of her wanted things to feel like home here.
But Jason had just reminded her… it never truly would.
She looked out the window, quiet but firm in her decision.
It was time to go.
***
For a week, Pearl perfected the art of avoidance.
She moved like a ghost—quiet, careful, and calculated. If Jason was in the sitting room, she stayed in her room. If he was in the kitchen, she waited until he left. And whenever he tried to speak to her, she'd offer nothing but a dry smile or a stiff nod.
Jason noticed.
Every bite of silence she gave him was louder than any insult. He tried to start random conversations—asked if she'd seen his missing charger, made a weak joke about her always boiling water like she was running a tea café—but all he got was, "Ask Frederick," or a fake chuckle followed by a swift exit.
And worse?
She no longer kept him a plate when she cooked. That hit him harder than her cold shoulder. She *always* kept him food before.
He didn't know why it bothered him so much… but it did.
So that night, when he walked into the kitchen and saw her slicing tomatoes in one of Frederick's oversized shirts, humming under her breath, he finally cornered her.
Literally.
"Are you still mad?" he asked, leaning against the counter.
Pearl didn't look up. "I'm not mad."
"You haven't said more than five words to me in days."
"I'm just busy."
"With what? Avoiding me?"
She exhaled sharply, turning to face him. "Jason, if you're here to guilt-trip me—"
"I'm not. I'm just… trying to fix things."
His voice was lower now. Closer. Too close.
Pearl noticed it instantly—the heat radiating off him, the way his tall frame loomed slightly, his scent—clean soap and something earthy—invading her personal space.
She backed up just an inch. He stepped forward.
"Look," he murmured, voice suddenly quieter. "I was rude. I shouldn't have said what I said that day. You're not a disturbance. You're just—"
His eyes dropped to her lips for a second too long.
Pearl's breath hitched.
She'd never been this close to a guy before—especially not one this frustrating and confusing and… annoyingly attractive.
The tension hung like static.
Then—
*"Ohhhh, sorry! I didn't see anything!"*
Frederick.
Standing in the doorway, hands over his eyes like a kid caught peeking.
Pearl immediately stepped back, cheeks flaming. "Frederick! It's not—!"
But he was already grinning, waving her off.