11
833 Words
Tavian stepped into the grand foyer of his house, the dim chandelier light reflecting off the marble floor. The silence was heavy, a stark contrast to the noise and energy of basketball practice just an hour ago.
"Welcome home, young master," the butler, Mr. Grayson, greeted him with a slight bow.
Tavian ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaustion settling in. "Hey, Grayson. My parents still not back?"
Grayson shook his head. "No, sir. They are still in Europe for their conference. They should return by the end of the month."
Tavian scoffed. "Figures."
He kicked off his sneakers, his body aching from the intense drills. It wasn't surprising—his parents were always traveling, always busy.
"Your sister is here, though," Grayson added.
Tavian stilled. "Leila’s here?"
"Yes. She arrived this afternoon and is resting in the guest room."
Tavian exhaled through his nose. Again?
Leila was married, but her visits home were becoming more frequent. She never outright said it, but Tavian knew—she was escaping.
Another fight. Another cold war with her husband.
Tavian sighed. "Alright. I’ll check on her later."
Grayson nodded. "Shall I prepare your dinner?"
"Nah. I’ll just grab something from the fridge."
Tavian headed upstairs, stripping off his sweat-drenched shirt as he entered his modern, minimalist bedroom. It was spacious, but oddly… empty.
He turned on the shower, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles.
After his shower, Tavian threw on a loose hoodie and basketball shorts, settling into his desk chair with his laptop open. He mindlessly scrolled through sports news, checking updates on his team’s biggest rival.
But soon enough, he got bored.
His fingers moved instinctively to social media.
A few mindless scrolls later, something caught his attention.
Ailith’s post.
A simple photo of her dinner—home-cooked food, a cozy kitchen, and a caption that read:
“Nothing beats a warm meal at home ❤️”
Tavian’s lips quirked. How… wholesome.
His house might be bigger, fancier—but it wasn’t warm. Not like hers.
Before he could think twice, he hit ‘like’ on the post.
And then, on impulse—he sent her a message.
Tavian: Wholesome dinner post. Very cute.
A few seconds later, the typing bubbles appeared.
Ailith: What can I say? I have a great chef at home.
Tavian: Your mom?
Ailith: Yep. Best cook in the world. You should be jealous.
Tavian smirked, leaning back in his chair.
Tavian: Very jealous. My butler can cook, but it’s not the same.
Ailith: You have a BUTLER?
Tavian: Uh… yeah?
Ailith: Tavian. That is the most “rich boy” thing you’ve ever said.
He chuckled.
Tavian: What can I say? I live up to expectations.
Ailith: Tragic. Must be tough, being pampered.
Tavian: Terrible, really. So lonely in my giant mansion.
Ailith: Oh nooo, poor little rich boy. Would you like me to send you some homemade food?
Tavian: Are you offering?
Ailith took a few seconds before replying.
Ailith: …Maybe.
Tavian grinned. Interesting.
Tavian: Is this you flirting?
Ailith: What if it is?
Tavian paused. She was being bold.
Usually, Ailith was reserved, hesitant. But over text? There was a confidence here.
He found it… fascinating.
Tavian: I’d say I’m impressed.
Ailith: Good. Keep up, then.
He let out a soft laugh. This girl.
Tavian: So, if I say I’d rather have dinner with you than eat alone in my fancy house, what would you say?
Ailith’s reply came quickly.
Ailith: I’d say… keep dreaming, rich boy.
Tavian grinned. She was fun.
Tavian: Keep dreaming, rich boy? Ouch. That’s cold, Ailith.
Ailith: You’ll survive. You’ve got your butler to comfort you.
Tavian: Grayson’s a great guy, but he’s not exactly great at emotional support.
Ailith: Tragic. Have you considered hiring a therapist?
Tavian: Nah. I just started talking to this cute girl instead.
Ailith’s typing bubble appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.
Tavian smirked. Got her.
Ailith: Is that so? I hope she charges you for emotional labor.
Tavian: She should. I’d pay in compliments.
Ailith: Pfft. Lame.
Tavian: Okay, fine. I’ll throw in free basketball lessons.
Ailith: Oh wow, what an honor. Getting schooled by the great Tavian Caius Gomez.
Tavian: Glad you understand.
Ailith: You’re impossible.
Tavian: And yet, you’re still talking to me.
Ailith’s typing bubble appeared again. This time, she took longer.
Ailith: Maybe I like the company.
Tavian felt his heartbeat skip.
Was she serious? Or just messing with him?
Either way, he liked it.
Tavian: Well, well. Looks like I’m growing on you.
Ailith: Don’t get ahead of yourself, rich boy.
Tavian: Too late. I’m already planning our next chat.
Ailith: Who said I’d answer?
Tavian: You will.
Ailith: Cocky much?
Tavian: Confident.
Ailith: Annoying.
Tavian: Adorable.
Again, Ailith paused.
Tavian could imagine her now—probably flustered, maybe glaring at her screen.
Ailith: You’re ridiculous.
Tavian: And yet…?
Ailith: And yet, I’m still talking to you.
Tavian grinned.
Tavian: Told you.
This was getting interesting.
- Writer
