ℍ𝔸𝕌ℕ𝕋𝔼𝔻 - ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴋᴀᴇʟꜱᴏɴꜱ

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

❧ dinner party ❧

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Amalie moved around the small kitchen of her new apartment, the hiss of a sizzling pan and the soft clink of plates breaking the quiet. Morning light spilled through the window, warming the countertops and turning the room into a soft glow of gold and amber. She cracked an egg into the pan, watching it bubble and curl at the edges.

Max perched on the counter behind her, arms crossed, his faint outline catching the sunlight but casting no shadow. His expression hovered between amusement and exasperation. He tilted his head, watching her with raised eyebrows.

"So, let me get this straight," he said, his voice edged with disbelief. "Elijah—an Original vampire—just...bought you this place? Like, no strings, no fine print? Just...'Here's the deed, congrats on your new life'?"

Amalie chuckled, flipping the egg onto a plate with practiced ease before putting bread into the toaster. "Yes, Max. For the fiftieth time, yes. And believe me, I tried arguing with him—I tried to pay half, even—but Elijah's idea of ​​compromise is smiling politely while refusing to budge. It's infuriating."

Max let out a low whistle, glancing around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time. "Wow. And here I thought chivalry was dead. Does he also, what, leave flowers on your doorstep? Open doors for you?"

She rolled her eyes, though a smile crept onto her face as she set down the plate and joined him. "I think chivalry is his default setting," she replied with a grin.

Max snorted, shifting his position on the counter as if trying to get comfortable. "And yet here we are. You, the girl who swore she'd never stick around this godforsaken town, now living rent-free courtesy of an Original. You don't see the irony?"

Amalie chuckled softly, setting the plate down and reaching for her coffee. "Oh, I see it. Believe me." She took a sip, savoring the warmth. "If you'd told me a year ago that I'd be soul -bound to the oldest vampires in history and receiving unsolicited real estate, I would've thought you were insane."

Max gave her a wry grin. "Right. Because nothing screams normal like ancient spells, soulmates, and Elijah as your personal realtor." His grind faded into something more thoughtful. "But seriously, Amalie—how does that even work? The whole soulmate thing. Is it, like, writing in some vampire prophecy or...?"

She shrugged, her movements slower now, more deliberate. "I wish I knew. Elijah explained bits and pieces, but it is mostly fate or whatever."

"Whatever," Max echoed, his tone teasing. "Yeah, that clears it right up."

Amalie shot him a playful glare but didn't reply. Max swung his legs back and forth from his spot on the countertop, tilting his head as he studied her.

"So...how's the whole 'no Mystic Falls drama' thing treating you? Quiet, peaceful, no vampires breathing down your neck—it's gotta be weird, right?"

Amalie paused mid-bite of her toast, glancing around the room as if seeing it anew. The apartment was still, untouched by the chaos of her life. "It is weird," she admitted, her voice soft. "But it's good. For the first time in a while, it feels like I can breathe. No Damon, no Stefan, no endless life-or-death nonsense. Just...quiet."