The Calm Before

The old ceiling fan clicked softly overhead, spinning in its lazy rhythm as the warm light of the late afternoon filtered through the slatted blinds. A breeze pushed in through the cracked window, bringing with it the faint scent of pavement, food stalls, and the constant hum of city life outside.

Inside their small apartment, Cyntia stood in front of the stove, barefoot, wearing Kai’s oversized college hoodie that hung past her waist. She had her hair tied up in a loose bun, strands falling around her face as she stirred something vigorously in a dented pot.

“Are you actually cooking or just threatening the pot?” Kai asked from behind his laptop, not even glancing up.

She shot him a mock glare. “This pot deserves it for almost boiling over.”

Kai smirked slightly, eyes flicking across lines of code. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“You’re a problem,” she muttered, grabbing a spoon and taste-testing the broth. “Mmm. Okay. Not bad. Could use more soy sauce.”

“Could also use someone who doesn’t measure with trauma.”

She tossed a towel at him without looking. It hit the edge of his chair.

“Keep that up and I’ll let the noodles burn.”

Kai paused. “I take it back. You’re a gifted chef. Truly.”

Cyntia grinned, victorious. “That’s what I thought.”

⸻

Ten minutes later, they were both on the floor in front of the coffee table, sharing the steaming pot of spicy noodles and a small side of fried egg and tofu. It wasn’t gourmet, but it was theirs. The quiet background noise of a playlist hummed from her phone—soft acoustic covers of love songs they never talked about but both liked.

Cyntia twirled her noodles. “So… tomorrow’s the café meet-up. 4 PM. You remember, right?”

Kai nodded while chewing. “Yeah. You’re excited.”

“I am.” She smiled. “I haven’t hung out with Katy and Sofia outside class in forever. I think they’re starting to think I’ve been kidnapped.”

“You kinda have,” he said, sipping his juice. “You live with a coder who never leaves.”

“True.” She looked at him, amused. “You sure you’ll come? Last time I invited you to a group hangout, you ghosted halfway and said your laptop needed emotional support.”

Kai feigned offense. “That laptop does have abandonment issues.”

Cyntia raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, then said, “I’ll be there. Promise.”

“You better,” she said with a playful pout. “Katy keeps teasing me that you’re a vampire or something.”

“Please. Vampires get more sun than I do.”

Cyntia laughed, leaning back on her palms. “You’re impossible.”

⸻

The room fell into an easy silence, the kind only people who knew each other deeply could enjoy. Outside, the sun began to dip behind the high rises, casting orange slashes across the floor.

“You ever wonder how we ended up like this?” she asked suddenly.

Kai looked over. “Like what?”

“Two broke students, in a one-bedroom apartment, living on instant noodles and caffeine. You coding your soul away, and me juggling a hundred things just to get through the week.”

He thought for a second, then said, “Honestly? I don’t mind it. Not with you.”

Cyntia blinked. “Wow. A rare compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

She nudged his leg with her foot. “I’m serious though. It’s not a perfect life, but it’s… calm. I like it.”

Kai looked at her—the way the golden light hit her cheek, the slight smile tugging at her lips. He didn’t say anything more. But deep down, he agreed. He wouldn’t trade this kind of quiet for anything.

⸻

Later that night, as the city buzzed faintly outside, Cyntia curled up on the couch with a nursing textbook in her lap, highlighter uncapped but barely used. Her eyes kept drifting to the window.

“You think Krakatar’s really that heroic?” she asked quietly.

Kai didn’t look up from his laptop. “He saves people. That’s what the footage shows.”

“Yeah, but… it’s like he’s always there at the right moment. Right angles. Right smile. Doesn’t it feel… staged?”

He finally looked up. “Coming from you?”

She laughed softly. “I know. I’m the one who still believes in heroes. But lately, I dunno… some things feel off.”

He watched her closely. Her eyes were thoughtful, not disillusioned. Still idealistic, but questioning.

“Trust your gut,” he said.

She looked back at him. “What about you? Do you believe in them?”

Kai didn’t answer right away. Then:

“I believe in you.”

Cyntia smiled. The kind that reached her eyes.

“Cheesy,” she whispered. “But I’ll allow it.”