I woke with a start, my eyes snapping open to a blinding swirl of white light. The room was stark, the walls and furniture bleeding bright shades of cream and ivory that made me squint. Blinking rapidly, I tried to piece together where I was. Slowly, the memories from the previous night crashed into my mind like a rogue wave: fleeing my own wedding, meeting that infuriatingly charming billionaire, and somehow ending up here—in Auden’s house.
His house. The sanctuary of the self-made millionaire whose smirk and tailored suits had both intrigued and irked me. A perfect douche, I decided. Without wasting a second, I swung my legs off the bed and hurried to the bathroom.
A glance in the mirror reassured me: I looked decent enough, the borrowed jeans and white top fitting snugly, surprisingly clean despite the chaos of last night. My fingers sifted through my tangled blonde hair, trying their best to smooth the wild strands back into some semblance of order. I splashed cool water on my face, the freshness helping to wash away residual panic.
On the counter, I spotted a toothbrush and a fresh tube of toothpaste. Gratefully, I scrubbed my teeth, the mundane act grounding me amid the surrealness of my situation. Straightening my clothes, I let out a long breath and stepped out, determined to find Auden and figure out what the hell I was supposed to do next.
The house was massive—far larger than any place I’d ever called home. Auden had told me he lived alone, which made me wonder: where were his parents? Judging by the expensive white leather sofas and glass tables scattered around, he was definitely wealthy, possibly filthy rich. The immaculate white decor made everything feel pristine but also strangely cold, as if designed to impress but not to comfort.
I pursed my lips, tiptoeing down the hall until I reached the kitchen. Hunger gnawed at me, but the cupboards were nearly barren—except for a suspiciously large stash of Nutella jars, which somehow failed to satisfy my craving for real food. Pinching my nose in frustration, I wandered the house, searching for any signs of life. Nothing. No humans, no pets, no music, not even the faintest sound of a TV.
Drawn to the large windows that framed the street below, I spotted a tiny bakery nestled in the corner—a warm glow spilling onto the cracked sidewalk, promising something more inviting than this sterile mansion. I dug out my wallet, grabbed my jacket, and slipped quietly out, locking the door behind me.
I hurried down the street and rounded the corner to the bakery, just as a small 'Closed' sign hung on the door. But through the window, I could see a figure inside, bustling about and tidying tables. Maybe they were opening soon. Impatient, I nudged the door open.
The woman inside hadn’t noticed me yet, her voice suddenly ringing out with a brash joke: "Yo momma’s so fat, her belly button gets home fifteen minutes before she does!" I froze, wondering if it was meant for me or the empty room.
From the kitchen came a male voice, quick to respond: "Yo momma’s so fat, I took a picture of her last Christmas and it’s still printing!" The woman laughed, a rich, genuine sound that filled the space.
I cleared my throat to get her attention. She turned, eyes sharp and assessing. Her black hair, streaked with rebellious green, framed a face that was as fierce as it was captivating. Her olive skin glowed under the bakery’s warm lights, and she wore a T-shirt emblazoned with the words, “I’m allergic to stupidity.” A smirk tugged at my lips.
"The shop’s not open yet," she said, wiping her hands on a rag.
"Yeah, I saw that," I admitted, hesitating. "But you’re opening soon, right?"
"In about half an hour," she replied, tossing the cloth into a waste bin with a flick.
"Oh," I said, voice softening. "I’m really hungry." Her smile softened too, and she motioned toward the glass display filled with an assortment of pastries.
"What’ll it be?" she asked.
Before I could answer, a voice from the kitchen interrupted, "Oi! Where’s your ‘yo momma’ fat joke?"
"Shut up, Danny! We have a customer," the woman barked, shooting me a quick apologetic glance. I laughed at the exchange.
"Sorry about that," she said, turning back. "I’m Shira. The smartest person you’ll meet today."
"Katherine," I introduced myself, smiling. "But everyone calls me KitKat. I’ll have some chocolate doughnuts and those KitKats," I added, eyeing the candy bars on display.
"Alright, Kath," she said warmly. Something about her made me feel unexpectedly at ease. It had been ages since I’d felt that—a flicker of real friendship. My chest, which had been tight for days, felt a little lighter.
She carefully placed the doughnuts on a plate and handed me a bag of KitKats. I thanked her and settled into a corner seat by the window, the cool glass offering a view of the awakening street. Shira joined me, plopping down opposite with a playful grin.
"You’re not from around here, are you?" she asked, arching a brow.
I shook my head, the truth slipping out easier than I expected.
"How’d you figure?"
"People here are... weird. And you’re shy," she said simply.
"Not shy," I corrected with a smirk. "Just hiding my weirdness until I know you can handle it." She chuckled, and I felt the tension drain from my shoulders.
"So, what brings you here?" she asked, her eyes curious but kind.
Something about her openness made me spill the whole story—my escape from the wedding, my chance encounter with Auden, and how I ended up in his house. She listened, nodding along, her expression thoughtful.
"Sounds like a decent guy," she said finally. "And you know, good guys tend to be sinful in bed."
I nearly choked on my doughnut, eyes wide.
"Let me warn you, though," she added with a sly grin. "Guys are like malls. Exciting for a while, but eventually, they just bore you. And like lava lamps—fun to watch, but not exactly bright."
We both laughed, the easy camaraderie wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
"Here," Shira said, sliding a business card across the table. "My number. Call if you ever need donuts. I like you."
"Thanks," I said, touched. "I might just take you up on that."
She smiled and stood, heading to change the sign from 'Closed' to 'Open'. Just then, the door swung open, and a tall, handsome man with blonde hair and striking green eyes strode in, clutching a bouquet of white orchids. Shira’s eyes narrowed as she quickly flipped the sign back to 'Closed'.
"Shira, I’m sorry—" he started, but she cut him off with a sharp retort, "Go away, you puking pig-eyed maggot-pie!"
He winced but pressed on, "Please take these flowers. You should be nicer."
"Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were the expert on my life," Shira snapped, turning on him and purposely swatting her hair across his face.
"I’m trying here," he said, voice strained. "This is the most romantic thing I’ve done lately."
"Second most," Shira corrected without missing a beat. "Remember the time I caught you in that ridiculous scenario? That was so romantic, Theo."
"I wasn’t thinking clearly. Please, just go out with me."
"I have a boyfriend," she shot back, striding away. I caught the lie in her eyes before he did.
"And I have a math test tomorrow," he deadpanned, following her.
She spun around, clearly annoyed. "And I have a tampon in my vagina!"
His eyes widened, cheeks flushing bright red. "Why would you tell me that?"
"I thought we were listing things I enjoy more than you," she said, throwing up her hands.
He sighed, the weight of the unspoken between them palpable. "I’m trying to make things better."
"Your sorry ass is only making it worse," she snapped, chest heaving.
Theo looked utterly defeated, his pain raw and visible. He placed the orchids on a table and quietly exited the bakery. Silence filled the room, thick and heavy.
Shira stared at the door, tears breaking free and tracing down her cheeks. Without thinking, I reached out and pulled her into a gentle hug, guiding her back to the seat.
She wiped her face fiercely and managed a shaky smile. "It’s okay. I’m fine. Thanks, Kath."
I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Let me know if you need me to make his death look like an accident."
She laughed, a real, heartfelt sound, and wiped away the last of her tears. In that moment, I realized something important—after all this time, I had found someone I could call a friend.