TOO MUCH FOR YOU. ENOUGH FOR HIM

Zendaya’s Night

Zendaya’s Pov

The soft click of the front door behind me was like a sigh of relief. Finally, home. My legs ached from walking around the mall, my arms still carried the light weight of shopping bags, and my stomach threatened to remind me I hadn’t eaten properly since the morning lecture. I dropped my bags near the entrance, kicking off my shoes and stretching. The apartment smelled faintly of polished wood and my lavender air freshener. Everything in my room and kitchen gleamed like it had been designed for someone who wanted life to feel effortless — which, in my case, it kind of was. “Finally,” I murmured to myself, letting my backpack slip off my shoulder and onto the floor. My body sank into the plush cushions of the mini couch near the window for a moment, closing my eyes. The day with Beatrice had been… perfect. Laughs, shopping disasters, the movie — everything. A little part of me wished days like this could last forever. But reality crept back when my stomach growled. I swung my legs off the couch, shaking off the drowsiness. “Food first, existential thoughts later,” I muttered, heading into the kitchen. The kitchen was everything I needed — full-sized fridge, gas stove, the works. I opened the fridge door and scanned its contents. Pasta. Eggs. Salad ingredients. A few leftover snacks. Something simple. Comfort food. My fingers settled on a pack of penne and a jar of tomato sauce. Quick, easy, and satisfying. Water boiled in a saucepan, steam curling into the air as I chopped onions and garlic. I hummed a little tune, letting the rhythm guide my chopping. Cooking had always been a strange comfort — methodical, absorbing, forgiving. I stirred the sauce, tasting it and adding a pinch more salt. Maybe a dash of chili flakes for a kick. Finally, the pasta was done. I drained it, mixed it with the sauce, and plated it neatly. Sitting at the little counter, I took the first bite. Warm, simple, delicious. The first bite of any meal after a long day is always the best, isn’t it? I picked up my phone to scroll through news headlines as I ate. One minute, politics; the next, a trending story about a celebrity mishap that made me snort. I laughed softly, shaking my head. The world was chaotic, sure, but in my tiny corner of it, I had control. A plate of pasta. A clean kitchen. A mini couch. Peace. When I finished eating, I rinsed my plate and washed the dishes, scrubbing away the sauce stains with care. My mind wandered to the day again. Beatrice, always dramatic, always energetic. I smiled to myself thinking about the way she’d insisted I try on that neon jumpsuit just for the selfies. My reflection in the polished sink reminded me I was exhausted but happy. With the dishes done, I wiped the counters, stacked them neatly, and finally sank into the mini couch again. Pulling a soft blanket over my legs, I leaned against the cushions. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside my window. My phone buzzed. It was a video call from Mom. I accepted, and instantly her bright face appeared on the screen. Behind her, I saw Dad waving, and my little brother doing a goofy thumbs-up from the side. “Zendaya! There’s my girl!” Mom exclaimed. “How was your day?” I laughed softly, ruffling my hair. “Busy, fun… exhausting.” Dad leaned in, pretending to scold me. “Busy, fun, exhausting? That’s all you say to us? I want details!” I rolled my eyes but grinned. “Fine. We went shopping, tried on ridiculous outfits, ate too much, and watched a movie.” My brother groaned dramatically. “Sounds like my dream day. Can I come next time?” Beatrice’s energy had clearly left a mark on me — I realized I was still laughing at the memory of her trying to balance on the mall escalator in those absurd heels. Mom chuckled, shaking her head. “You two always have the best adventures. I’m glad you’re making memories, Zendaya.” We gossiped long into the night. My dad told stories from his work, my little brother tried to sneak in his homework complaints, and Mom teased me endlessly about “not texting enough.” Even with teasing, I felt warmth spread through me. I realized just how much I missed these nightly chats — family grounding, laughter, and advice all rolled into one. Eventually, my parents reminded me it was late. “Don’t stay up too long, okay?” Mom said, her voice softening. “We love you.” “Love you too,” I replied, smiling as the video call ended. The screen went dark, leaving me with a comforting silence. I crawled into bed, pulling the covers snug around me. My phone buzzed again — just t****k this time. I scrolled aimlessly, watching funny clips, dance trends, and random videos that made me smile or chuckle. Every so often, I paused the videos to reflect on my day. I thought about Beatrice, of course. About how laughter could heal even the most restless heart. About the new friends we met, and how small beginnings could turn into lasting connections. The world outside could wait. Tonight, it was just me, my cozy room, and the soft hum of my space. Eventually, I set my phone aside, letting the screen’s glow fade. My eyes grew heavy. My body relaxed completely against the soft mattress, cocooned by blankets and warmth. The sounds of the city drifted faintly through the window, distant and soothing. I smiled, breathing in slowly. A day of chaos, fun, and laughter behind me. A peaceful night ahead. And for the first time in a while, I let myself surrender completely. Sleep came gently, deeply, and without interruption. For tonight, everything was just right.