She moved in with her stuff, a box of books, full of optimism. The first week glowed: shared playlists shuffling between Taylor Swift and new podcasts, shared shelves of their stuff, coffee appearing precisely when mornings needed saving. Evelyn texted her sister: He’s a dream. Everything just…works.
He made space for her without comment: half a closet, a toothbrush twin to his, her favorite mug on the reachable shelf. Even his quiet felt welcoming. She slept deeply, the way you sleep near someone who reads your moods or hands you a sweater even before you start to shiver.