Book 3 - Chapter 32: Chris Apologies

= Sarah POV =

After my shower, I couldn't stop thinking about Chris—her words, her touch. It was maddening how easily she lingered in my mind, weaving through every thought and leaving me distracted.

Dressed in a pair of pink sweatpants and a matching crop top that hugged me just right, I wandered into the kitchen in search of food. My stomach rumbled in anticipation, and I was delighted to find a steaming bowl of porridge waiting for me, accompanied by a warm, golden-brown bread roll resting neatly on a plate.

I carried the tray of food to the couch however I found it almost impossible to get comfortable with my food while I sat down.

Chris was leaning against the counter, her sleeves rolled up as though she'd just finished preparing something. She watched me with that knowing smile—the one that always left my cheeks burning.

"If you like, I can set up your low table in your room for you," she offered, her eyes flickering to the couch where I was already struggling to find a way to balance both the bowl and the bread in my lap. The coffee table was just far enough out of reach to be inconvenient, and the plush cushions of the couch made sitting upright a challenge.

"Oh, would you? That would be amazing!" I said, my voice lighting up.

Chris gave me a soft smile—warmer this time, free of teasing—and disappeared down the hall toward my room. I could hear her moving furniture around as I carefully scooped up my breakfast and followed her a few minutes later.

When I stepped inside, I stopped in the doorway and blinked. Chris had outdone herself.

She'd arranged my low coffee table against the bedframe and surrounded it with pillows in soft, complementary shades of blush and cream. The space looked so inviting—cozy yet elegant, like something out of a Pinterest board. A neatly folded throw blanket rested on the edge of the bed, just in case I wanted to bundle up while I ate.

"Aww, Chris… this is so cute. Thank you," I said, beaming as I placed my food down on the table.

Chris leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her expression unreadable but her eyes filled with something warm and affectionate.

"It's nothing. I just didn't want you to spill porridge all over my couch," she teased, but the softness in her voice betrayed her.

I laughed and sank down into the pillows, instantly melting into the comfort she'd created for me. I set down the tray on the table and as I broke apart the bread and took a bite, I let out a contented sigh.

Chris lingered in the doorway a moment longer, watching me, before finally turning to leave.

"Let me know if you need anything else," she said over her shoulder.

I watched her go, my heart fluttering at the small but thoughtful gesture.

It wasn't much—just a table and some pillows—but it felt like more than that. It felt like being cared for.

+++

Chris reappeared a few moments later, carrying a cup of steaming coffee in both hands. She moved with that effortless grace she always seemed to have, her presence filling the small room without overwhelming it. Settling down next to me, she set the cup on the table and then reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear with a touch so gentle it made my breath hitch.

"I'm glad you like the setup," she said softly, her voice carrying a tenderness I wasn't used to hearing from her. Then her smile faltered, and she exhaled as though the weight of a thought had been pressing on her all evening. "But…I'm also so sorry I sort of… caused you to get so sick."

She shifted slightly, her brows knitting together as guilt shadowed her features.

"I shouldn't have behaved so poorly," she continued, her thumb brushing lightly against my jaw before pulling away. "If I had just kept my hands to myself and let you clean up on your own, you wouldn't have gotten soaked…and caught such a bad cold." She sighed, her lips tugging downward. "I forgot how weak your immune system is."

Her words hung between us, and I could feel the sincerity behind them—the rawness of her regret.

I reached out, placing a hand gently on her arm.

"Hey," I said softly, giving her a light squeeze. "It's ok. If it weren't for you, I'd probably still be running around Ms. Jun's old house like an idiot, completely lost. You tried your best, and I'm grateful you're always there for me."

Chris looked down at the table, her lips pressed into a thin line as if weighing my words carefully.

"I try my best where I can," she murmured after a moment. Her voice was quieter now, less guarded than usual. "I just want to keep you safe."

She smiled faintly and leaned back against the pillows, draping an arm lazily over the cushions behind me—not quite touching me but close enough that I could feel her presence like a steady warmth at my side.

I returned her smile and tore off a small piece of the bread roll, nibbling at it while letting the quiet comfort of the moment settle around us.

"Well," I said, almost shyly, "I feel safe. And I feel comforted." I paused, glancing at her before adding softly, "I'm happy. Isn't that enough?"

Chris hummed quietly, a low sound that vibrated in her chest as her fingers reached out and brushed lightly through my hair. She twisted a lock of it between her fingers, smoothing it out as if she needed something to occupy her hands.

"Yeah," she said at last, her voice so soft it almost melted into the air between us. "I guess it is."