CHAPTER 8

The apartment smelled like oranges and lavender. It wasn’t grand, but it was warm. Lived-in. Safe. The kind of place with mismatched cushions, sun-faded curtains, and shelves heavy with books that hadn’t been dusted in a while. She pushed open the door with her shoulder, balancing Juno on her hip. "Come in," she said casually, as though she hadn’t just invited a stranger into her private world. He stepped in slowly, observing the space keenly. Shoes tucked neatly by the door. A chipped ceramic lamp glowing beside a faded armchair. A child’s crayon drawing taped crookedly on the wall. "Sorry about the mess," she muttered, setting Juno down. "I wasn’t expecting company." He shook his head. "It’s...nice." That surprised her. He didn’t seem like the type to find charm in messes. Or comfort in clutter. But there he was, crouching to help Juno unstrap her shoes, mumbling something about Velcro being overrated. Juno giggled. "Are you staying long?" she asked him, all bluntness and big e