"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?" - 𝐊. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨
𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨: This story is Slowburn, follows a couple of months after the epilogue, isn't cringe and realistic.
─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────
𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨 𝐢𝐧 "𝐏𝐭: 𝟎...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-2nd person pov-
November 24th, Friday - 4:36 pm
Last night, you had gotten home from your parent's house, and after a while of tying yourself up, you went straight to sleep.
The next morning you had done your usual routine of going to the café to work until you were done with all your responsibilities for the day.
As of now, you were stepping out of the elevator of your apartment complex, heels clicking against the tiled floor as you approached your apartment door.
It’s been a long day—emails, meetings, and more emails—but the thought of the quiet evening ahead keeps you moving.
You slide your key into the lock, push the door open, and are immediately greeted by the familiar scent of your lavender diffuser.
The apartment is just as you left it this morning: a cozy haven with soft lighting, carefully curated art prints on the walls, and a throw blanket draped over your couch.
The first thing you do is kick off your shoes, letting them tumble into the corner by the door.
Your feet sigh in relief as they meet the cool hardwood floor.
Before you can take another step, a soft meow cuts through the stillness of your apartment.
Looking down, you see Michi, your fluffy calico cat, trotting toward you with her tail high and her brown eyes bright.
“Hey, Michi,” you say softly, crouching down to run a hand along her back.
She purrs immediately, leaning into your touch before weaving figure eights around your legs.
Her fur is warm and soft, and the simple act of petting her loosens some of the tension in your shoulders.
Michi follows you as you walk further inside the apartment, rubbing against your ankles with every step.
When you finally settle your bag on the entry table, she hops onto the nearby ottoman and watches you intently, her tail flicking lazily.
You head to the bedroom to change, and she’s right behind you, leaping onto the bed as you pull off your work clothes.
She curls into a little loaf on your comforter, her eyes following your every move as you swap your office attire for soft navy blue sweatpants and your favorite white tank top.
Comfortable at last, you scratch Michi under the chin before heading to the kitchen to start dinner.
●●●
You open the fridge, pulling out some fresh spinach, cherry tomatoes, and chicken you marinated the night before.
Within minutes, the sizzle of chicken in the pan fills the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of garlic and herbs.
