Elena’s POY


    I stood across the street, thete afternoon sun casting long shadows from the surrounding buildings, my game fixed on the slightly rundown apartmentplex before me. The was the address Joane had given me


    Number 48. Taking a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous flutter in my stomach, I crossed the busy road.


    This was it. My first and, given the rapidly approaching deadline, hopefully my only in person viewing of a potential shared living space in Marcester City.


    Joane had agreed to me visiting today, ast minute arrangement after my impulsive decision to leave Velhaven earlier on a whimst night.


    I reached the building, its brick fa?ade showing signs <b>of </b>age and neglect, and consulted the numbers beside the doorbells, 48. On the second floor. climbed the worn concrete steps, the air in the stairwell thick with the faint, lingering smell of stale cigarette smoke and something vaguely flor perhaps an air freshener trying to mask the underlying odors.


    Reaching the second floor, I found the apartment door and raised my hand to ring the bell pressed the small button once, then again, waiting what felt like an eternity before pressing it a third time, a sliver of doubt beginning to creep into my mind. Had I gotten the address wrong? Was she even expecting me?


    Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled Joane, But it wasn’t just her appearance that made my eyes widen. The moment the door was ajar, a wave of cloying, unmistakable scent hit me – the foul<b>, </b>musky odor of semen. My eyes flicked from the side of her sleep tousled head to the interior of the living room, the scene thaty beyond confirming my immediate, unpleasant suspicions.


    The room was a chaotic mess, clothes strewn across the floor, empty food containers scattered on every surface, and the remnants of what looked suspiciously like a party from the night before. And there, sprawled out on the worn <b>floral </b>couch,y a man,pletely <b>oblivious </b>to my presence, his chest bate, a crumpled nket barely covering his lower half. Joane herself was barely more presentable, her eyes widening in surprise as she looked me up and down, her gaze lingering a moment too long, her own attire consisting of nothing more than a flimsy,ce trimmedlingerie set.


    Her eyes widened further as she finally seemed to register my presence, her gaze flicking down to my own rather conservative outfit – a in polo shirt,fortable zer, and well–wom jeans. Then, her eyes darted towards a wall clock hanging crookedly above the doorway. “Oh, Elena! I’m so sorry.” she stammered. “1-1 seemed to have overslept.” She quickly turned around and walked back into the cluttered apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar. I waited awkwardly in the hallway, clutching my <b>phone </b>with her address disyed on the screen, a growing sense of unease settling in my stomach.


    So this wasn’t the wrong apartment


    I sighed inwardly, my gae drifting over the state of the <b>walls </b>visible from <b>where </b>I stood. They were undeniably dirty, stained with what looked like years of neglect. Grime clung to theers, and in one particrly disturbing spot, a fuzzy green substance seemed to be actively growing


    Taking a deep, slightly hesitant breath, I stepped inside as Joane reappeared, having seemingly <b>made </b>a minimal effort to cover herself by hastily pulling on a thin, silk robe that did little to conceal her previous attime. With a muttered “Get up! Leave,” she shoved the still sleeping man on the couch, sending him tumbling onto the <b>floor </b>with a groan. Then, turning back to me, she offered <b>a </b>strained, insincere smile that didn’t quite reach her <b>eyes</b>. “Wee Sorry about the… state of things.”


    Though her “wee” was more of a grimace, she continued, gesturing <b>vaguely </b>around the messy living room. “If you’d given me more of a heads–up about the exact time you’d be antiving, I’d have cleared the space. It’s not usually like this, honestly, Only once a week or so. You know? Single life gets a ttle out of track sometimes…” She said, looking me up and down again with a rather too interested gaze that made me instinctively step back.


    “I’m sorry if I’m being a little too invasive,” she continued, narrowing her eyes slightly as she walked closer, her hands resting onnur hips, the silk robe parting slightly to reveal thece beneath. “But are you maybe Elena Vetrov? As in, Niki Vetrov’s wife? The resemnce is uncanny.”


    I pursed my lips<b>, </b>a wave of difort washing ever me as she closed the remaining distance between us. The fact that she recognized me, despite the low profile I had tried to maintain since…made me even more wary.


    She was practically naked under that flimsyrobe. God. This was beyond awkward, it was bordering <b>on </b>surreal,


    Yep. Absolutely no. This wasn’t going to work. Not even remotely


    <b>по </b>


    I took a small, <b>involuntary </b>step away from her, puiting a bit more spare between us, and said, my voice tight with forced politeness, “Unm


    This has been interesting. However,” Thesitated, searching for the right words to politely nutricate myself from this bizarre situation, “I don’t think din will work out for me. Your… Mestyle doesn’t seem to quite match with mine. I’m sorry” enhed, feeling incredibly awkward and al She frowned, her initial friendly fa?ade crumbling, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. “What is that supposed to mean the ques tone now led with suspicion:


    I swallowed, the air in the apartment suddenly feeling thick and heavy. “Nothing Treally don’t mean anything negative by it. It’s your home, you can obviously do whatever you please. I’m just… not really the type to party… like this it happens every work, then it would probably be both of us.” forced a tight, insincere smile and started backing toward the front door, eager to ape this ufortable encounter,


    “Oh…alright then,” she said, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. Her arber interest had clearly vanished, reced by a cut indifference. Without another word, she turned and shut the door right in my face,


    sighed, turning around and making my way back down the dirty stairs. It was kind of my own fault, you know? I had just blurted out tomorrow” in front of Mom, my eagerness to escape Velhaven overriding any sensible nning. I should have waited, contacted a couple more people, and arranged a few more viewings before making the trek out here. But the tension at home had been so thick, the unspoken usations so heavy, that any alternative, r matter how questionable, had seemed preferable to staying in my own house


    Did that even make sense? I shook my head, a wry smile <b>twisting </b>my lips. My life felt like a badly written si sometimes.


    It <b>was </b>like in recent days, my own home had transformed into a ce where I didn’t want to be anymore. The familiarfort had been reced by a suffocating weight. This had never happened to me before, this feeling of beingpletely out of sync with my own surroundings, and yet here we were With me standing <b>in </b>the dingy hallway of a stranger’s apartment building, staring off into nothingness.


    I turned to look at the slightly dented sports bike I’d borrowed from Rachel if I didn’t manage to find <b>a </b>suitable ce to live in Maxcester City today, the $30 I’d spent renting this slightly unreliable mode of transport would feel like moneypletely down the drain.


    I sighed again, the weight of my rapidly dwindling options pressing down on me


    My stomach suddenly let out a loud, insistent grumble, a reminder that I had skipped a proper meal in my haste to get out of the house. I turned to lock


    around


    I’d left Velhaven with just a hastly made banana milkshake and an apple clutched in my hand, and hadn’t taken anything else to eat for the next three hours. That was irresponsible of me, especially now


    I should probably <b>go </b>and find something to eat. I sighed, shoving the keys to Rachel’s bike into my pocket, making sure the kickstand was properly engaged, and jogged over to what looked like the least expensive cafeteria in the immediate area, a brightly lit, slightly chaotic–looking ce with a handwritten menu board disyed outside.


    As soon as I stepped inside, the strong, unmistakable smell of fried chicken and greasy burgers hit me, and my stomach let out another, even louder rumble. Damn it. The aroma<b>, </b><b>usually </b>so appealing now just amplified my hunger.


    A server, a young man with a friendly smile, looked over at me and gestured towards an empty two–seater table by the window. Just as I was about to head over there, a familiar voice cul through the din of the lunchtime crowd.


    “Elena?” Someone spoke, and my heart <b>did </b><b>a </b>strange little jump in my chest.


    I turned around slowly, my gaze sweeping over the various upied tables until Inded on the source of the voice. And there, sitting <b>at </b><b>a </b>table near the back, looking at me with a surprised expression and his hands raised in a hesitant greeting, was Mkai. He was sitting next to another man, someonel didn’t recognize, who was looking at me with an equally curious expression.


    Inwardly cursed myself for selecting this particr ce out of the myriad of other options in the area. I should have just gone to that other, more expensive–looking cafe I’d passed earlier. Hindsight, as always, was frustratingly clear.


    Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t have any particr issue with Mkal. It wasn’t him personalty. It was just that he probably knew too much about myplicated life, and I was desperately trying to avoid any further unwanted attention or spilled secrets.


    And what on warth was he even doing here in Maxcester City?