Maya was already halfway into the cupboards by the time Laura finished setting up the TV.
“Okay,” Maya said, opening another door. “Explain this to me.”
Laura glanced over. “Explain what?”
“There is not a single snack in this apartment.” Maya crouched, opened a lower cupboard, then another. “No chips. No chocolate. Not even the sad crackers people pretend are a choice.”
Laura winced. “I have pasta.”
Maya straightened slowly. “Pasta is not a snack.”
“There’s also rice.”
Maya stared at her. “Laura.”
“What?” Laura said. “I cook.”
“That’s not the word I’d use,” Maya said. “This is a pantry built for survival, not joy.”
Laura shrugged. “I didn’t realise this was a themed evening.”
Maya closed the cupboard and leaned back against the counter. “I can’t watch TV without sugar. That’s against my values.”
Laura hesitated for half a second, then grabbed her keys. “Alright. I’ll do a quick run.”
Maya’s face brightened immediately. “You’re a hero.”
“I’m going to regret this,” Laura said, already pulling on her shoes.
“Get the chocolate with the sea salt,” Maya called after her. “Not the dark one you like that tastes like sadness.”
Laura shook her head, smiling despite herself, and stepped out.
The bell chimed as Laura reached for the drinks fridge.
“Well, your girlfriend finally training you to do snack runs?”
Laura paused. Just long enough to register the voice.
Taylah.
Right.
She closed the fridge, set the bottle in her basket, then turned.
She stepped closer. Not crowding. Just enough that Taylah had to look up.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” Laura said.
Taylah laughed. “Relax. I’m joking.”
Laura held her gaze. Her voice stayed level, almost mild.
“Well, I’m not.”
Taylah’s smile twitched. “Wow. Defensive.”
Laura took another half-step. Close enough now that the words landed clean.
“You were abusive,” she said.
“You were controlling.”
“You crossed boundaries and then made her think she was confused.”
Laura didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t lower it either. The words landed level, already decided.
For a moment, Taylah didn’t move.
Then she swallowed.
The hum of the fridge filled the space.
“If you mention her again,” Laura said, voice still even, “this will be the least uncomfortable version of this conversation.”
Laura stepped back. Just enough to end it. She picked up her basket, turned, and walked to the counter.
The bell chimed when she left.
Laura closed the car door and sat there for a moment, keys still in her hand.
The car was quiet. The hum of the street muted through the glass.
She put the keys in the ignition but didn’t turn them. Instead, she leaned forward, forearms resting on the steering wheel, fingers tightening until the leather creaked faintly under her grip.
Her breath came sharp at first. She slowed it. In. Out. Again.
Once more, until the heat in her chest dulled to something manageable.
She loosened her hands. Rolled her shoulders once. Checked herself.
Then she started the car and pulled out, already shifting her focus to what snacks she’d forgotten and what Maya would want to watch.
By the time she turned onto their street, the anger was gone. Contained where it belonged.
Laura came through the door with the familiar click of the lock.
Maya looked up from the couch, phone still in her hand. “Hey,” she said, already smiling. She swung her legs down and padded over. “What did you get?”
Laura set the bag on the counter, unhurried. She pulled out the drinks, the chips, then reached back in and brought out the chocolate.
She held it out.
“Got your favourite.”
Maya’s face softened immediately. “Ooh, hello,” she said, taking it. She leaned in without thinking.
Laura met her halfway, a brief kiss, warm and easy.
Maya bumped her shoulder. “Netflix or something dumb on YouTube?”
Laura shrugged, already loosening her coat. “Dealer’s choice.”
Maya went back to the couch, tearing the wrapper open.
Laura washed her hands, grounded, steady. Whatever had happened stayed outside the door where it belonged.