Ripples of Fate

Chapter 44: A Place to Call Home

Mailin’s POV

When we first walked into our apartment at Heights Alliance, the place felt bare, just four walls and empty space. But that didn’t last long. The moment Shota handed me the keys, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, I knew he was giving me free rein to make it ours. The gesture alone made my heart swell, and I immediately began planning.

Shota watched from the couch as I buzzed around, measuring walls and muttering to myself about colors and patterns. He looked amused—eyes half-lidded with his usual tiredness—but I caught the way his gaze lingered, soft and curious. He never cared much about aesthetics, as long as things were functional. But this place was going to be more than just functional. It was going to be home.

The first thing I decided on was the living room. I wanted it to feel like stepping into a magical world, somewhere soft and comforting. The walls were painted in a creamy white, catching the sunlight that streamed through the windows. I hung delicate golden-framed mirrors and a few enchanted paintings—scenes of rolling hills and moonlit forests that almost seemed to move when you weren’t looking directly at them.

In the center of the room was a large, rose-colored sofa, plush and inviting, with throw blankets draped across the back. The cushions were soft enough to sink into, and I loved the way it looked against the pale gold accents around the room. I’d often find Shota there, sprawled out after a long day, his eyes closed but his body completely relaxed, as though the magic of the room had worked its charm on him, too.

A small, round coffee table with carved white wood legs sat in front of the couch. On top, I placed a vase of fresh roses—pink and white—along with a few books stacked haphazardly. My favorite touch, though, was the twinkling fairy lights I strung up across the ceiling, casting a soft glow that turned the entire room into something dreamlike.

“Too much?” I had asked him, placing a hand on my hip as I surveyed my handiwork.

Shota, his head resting against the arm of the couch, looked up at me with a lazy smile. “No. It’s perfect.”

In the corner by the window, I created a small reading nook, filled with cozy cushions and a fluffy blanket. A shelf sat nearby, lined with my favorite novels—everything from fantasy to romance, worlds where magic and adventure waited with every turn of the page. I spent most of my evenings there, curled up with a book in hand while Shota worked quietly beside me.

The bedroom was where I really let my imagination take over. The bed, framed by a delicate vintage headboard, was covered in layers of rose-colored sheets and soft, white quilts. I’d draped a sheer canopy from the ceiling, letting it flow down like a veil around the bed, and intertwined golden fairy lights in the fabric. The glow was so warm, so magical, that every night felt like we were drifting off in a world of dreams.

Shota never said much about the bedroom, but the way he pulled me close every night, his arms wrapped around me as we lay under the soft light, told me everything I needed to know. He loved it—loved the peace it brought after long days spent dealing with unruly students.

On my side of the bed, I kept a small nightstand with a pink lamp and a music box Shota had given me. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d open the box just to hear its soft melody fill the room. It always calmed me. On Shota’s side, things were more practical—just a simple table with a single photo of us. I loved how he always glanced at it before bed, a small reminder of the life we were building together.

The kitchen was small but cozy, with white cabinets and rose-colored ceramic dishes that I had insisted on. Little herb pots lined the windowsill, filling the room with the fresh scent of basil and rosemary. Shota had his own corner—neat and organized—where his coffee maker sat alongside a few sleek black mugs. I’d catch him there most mornings, quietly brewing his coffee while I made tea.

Our bathroom became a haven of soft pinks and golds, the walls a blush color that made everything feel warm. The mirror above the sink was framed in gold, reflecting the twinkle of the fairy lights I’d hung in there as well. The shelves were filled with my collection of scented bath salts, and rose-colored towels hung neatly on brass hooks.

Shota’s favorite part of the apartment, though, was the balcony. It was small, just enough space for a couple of chairs and a table, but it had the perfect view of the sunset. We’d often sit out there in the evenings, the sky painted in hues of pink and orange, the world quiet around us. He’d sip his coffee while I nursed a cup of tea, and sometimes, we’d just sit in comfortable silence, content in each other’s company.

“It’s peaceful here,” he’d say, his voice low as the sun dipped below the horizon.

I’d smile, resting my head on his shoulder. “It’s home.”

And it was. Every inch of that apartment was filled with love and magic, a reflection of the life we’d created together. Shota’s quiet presence balanced the ethereal touches I brought to the space, making it the perfect blend of practical and whimsical. Every night, as we curled up on the couch or lay beneath the soft glow of fairy lights in the bedroom, I was reminded of how lucky I was to share this home with him.

This was our world, our little haven, and it was everything I had ever dreamed it would be.