Monet let out a mocking laugh. "That's rich. Zoya, please spare us the humble act. You may be a model now, but you are certainly no actress."
"Well, at least I can hold my liquor," Zoya teased, hinting at Monet's notorious attitude after a few drink...
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Zoya, entering Monet's apartment, followed the path to the guest room she would now call hers. The room, once Zoya's sanctuary during her days as a writer, felt both familiar and strange. Its transformation from a creative haven to a guest room was evident — new paint on the walls, the desk and bookshelf were replaced by a queen-size bed adorned with silk sheets, a nightstand, and a small nook facing the window. Despite these changes, the room retained remnants of their shared past.
While unpacking her belongings and organizing them within the room, Zoya found herself contemplating the absurdity of the situation. She had transitioned from being Monet's girlfriend to an ex and now, unexpectedly, her wife, all while residing in a guest room within an apartment where they once shared their lives. The room itself was a conjunction of memories, bearing witness to the complex layers of their relationship and the unforeseen twists of fate that now had Zoya as a guest in what used to be her personal space as they awaited a divorce.
Quincy jumped onto the bed as Zoya began unpacking her belongings. While she meticulously arranged her things, the pleasant atmosphere shifted when an alert chimed on her phone. As she glanced at the screen, her expression turned to annoyance, prompted by the messages she received. Frustrated, she hastily shoved the phone into the nightstand, attempting to push aside the unsettling feelings from the unwelcome notifications.
Monet walked into the room, immediately sensing the frustration on Zoya's face. "Everything okay?" She asked, with curiosity and nervousness evident in her tone. The awareness of the less-than-ideal situation hung in the air as she approached the guest room. Both women could feel the weight of unspoken words lingering between them. "If you want your old desk back, it's in storage. You can talk to the building manager if you want them to bring it back," Monet suggested, trying to address any potential discomfort or inconvenience.
"I'm fine. Just the other models sometimes send dumb texts." Zoya shook off the frustration.. "I don't think I'm in the mindset to write, so I'll probably leave the desk in storage for now," she explained, glancing at Monet. "After I unpack, do you want to start looking at the homework the therapist gave us?"
"Still eager to do homework," Monet playfully rolled her eyes. "Yes, we can go through it once you're done," Monet called Quincy over, giving Zoya space to finish unpacking.
Once Zoya settled in, she joined Monet in the living room. Having reviewed the therapist's packets, Monet began listing a few boundaries she had started jotting down.
Monet fixed a serious gaze on Zoya. "First, we can't tell anyone that we are married. Not even Shan. One drunk night, and she will insist we tell the world, just like when we first got together."
Monet paused, waiting for Zoya's nod of agreement before proceeding. "Two, our rooms are private. We won't enter each other's rooms unless we give explicit permission. The living room and kitchen are shared spaces, though. I've already made room for your stuff in the fridge and pantry."
