BEAUTIFUL THINGS **
By the time evening rolled around, the storm had calmed into a soft drizzle, the city outside their window cloaked in a blue-grey hush. Inside the apartment, however, there was warmth—literal and otherwise. The smell of garlic, roasted vegetables, and seared meat filled the air, along with the hum of low jazz Kai insisted on putting on as he cooked.
Amara sat on the edge of the counter—again—but this time fully clothed in one of Kai's oversized hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants, which kept her warm. Her hair was loosely tied up, damp from the shower, and she nursed a glass of wine while watching Kai stir something on the stove. They've been cooking together, but Kai did most of the work. He cooks like it always meant the world to him. And she always let him.
“You’
