Echoes of Unrequited Love

Nobody knows the minimalist chic vibe better than me.

If I hadn’t double–checked the apartment number before walking in, I would’ve thought ! » stepped into a time machine and ended up back in that “home” from two years ago,

The one I shared with Hogan.

Gray curtains, a beige love–seat, and the black–and–white checkered carpet–not only was the color scheme identical, but the layout was a carbon copy too.

And yet, I clearly remembered that the landlord said all our “home” stuff had been dumped at the landfill.

So is this just a freaky coincidence?

“Xaviera, why the freeze frame at the door?” Cecilia, noticing my trance, grabbed a pair of shoe covers from the hall cabinet and tossed them my way, adding, “Surprised, huh? When Hogan moved in, he got everything sorted out, from big–ticket appliances to the nitty–gritty essentials. The dude’s got an eye for detail.”

So, all of this was Hogan’s handiwork?

I awkwardly slipped on the shoe covers without picking up on Cecilia’s cue and shot back, “Where’s the grub?”

A flicker of disappointment crossed Cecilia’s eyes–a subtle sign that she was bummed I didn’t play ball with her chitchat. Pointing towards the kitchen, she said, “All the ingredients are there. I barely touch the kitchen stuff, so, Xaviera, you do you.”

With my mind set on ‘get in, get out,‘ I bee–lined for the kitchen. But when I caught sight of the pots and pans on the stove, my calm heart hit choppy waters again.

They were from the same niche brands I always use.

One of them was a spitting image of the clay pot I use for my soups.

Another coincidence?

“Xaviera, what’s up?” Cecilia leaned on the kitchen’s sliding door. “Something wrong?”

I snapped out of it, shook my head, and said, “Prep’s gonna take about twenty minutes. You can hang here or chill in the living room.”

Cecilia covered her mouth, yawning, “I’m beat. I’ll wait outside.”

Fine by me. I’m more at ease flying solo.

But as I faced the familiar knives and cookware, I couldn’t help getting sidetracked.

And in that moment of distraction, I nicked my finger while filleting the carp.

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A surge of blood sprang from the cut, and the sting jolted me back to my senses.

After the carp hit the pot, I called Cecilia over and instructed, “When the timer dings, the soup’s done. It’s best served piping hot, all milky and tender.”

“Thanks a ton, Xaviera, Let’s do this: Hogan and I will treat you sometime soon, and you better hot bail on us.”

The mention of Hogan snapped me back to business. “I’ll leave the collaboration progress to you.”

“Of course,” Cecilia said as she walked me out. With her eyes briefly meeting the dessert box in the entryway, she politely offered, “Hey, Xaviera, Hogan and I picked up some treats from Pinecrest Hollow. If you don’t mind, grab a box to try.”

Glancing at the elegantly packaged desserts, I smiled and declined, “Nah, I’m not big on sweets. Director Irwin, keep them for yourself.”

It’s just business, after all.

Leaving Cecilia’s place, I found myself drifting to the hospital, but my mind was still wrapped around that minimalist apartment.

Was Hogan playing games?

But till now, he hasn’t made any real moves.

Suddenly, I felt all at sea.

Seeing me deep in thought, Jason voiced his concern, “If you’re busy with work, you don’t… don’t need to come every day.”

Not wanting to worry Jason, I forced a smile and said, “Not too busy. President Lott’s way out of my league.”