And so, Bella moved into my home, without my consent.
Arthur had settled the whole thing in a few casual sentences.
The next day, he went to work as if nothing had happened.
Bella stayed in the guest room, occasionally emerging for a glass of water, acting as if she owned the place.
When she came back, she had groceries in hand.
The sound of chopping drifted from the kitchen, accompanied by the low hum of the range hood.
The aroma of a home-cooked meal wafted out, filling the living room and seeping into my bedroom.
Everything looked so normal, almost as if nothing had ever happened.
I sat on the couch, watching Arthur walk out of the kitchen with plates in his hands.
Bella followed closely behind him, holding a handful of forks.
They moved in perfect sync.
Arthur set the dishes
