The morning sunlight streamed through Esmé's apartment as she moved through her usual routine, tidying up with practiced ease. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and soft music played from her speakers, filling the space with warmth.
Then, her phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
She hesitated for only a second before answering.
"Hello?"
"Morning, Esmé."
Noah.
She smiled, keeping her voice light. "Well, this is a surprise."
"I was just thinking about you," he admitted casually.
Esmé let out a small laugh, feigning amusement. "Oh? You mean after your drunken performance last night?"
Noah groaned dramatically. "Don't remind me."
She chuckled. "You were entertaining, I'll give you that."
He sighed, half-embarrassed, half-unbothered. "Yeah, yeah. I regret nothing."
Their conversation drifted into easy banter, the kind that felt natural, effortless. Then, after a pause, Noah cleared his throat.
"So… what are you doing tonight?"
Esmé's lips curled slightly. "Why? You planning something?"
"I was thinking dinner," he said. "You in?"
She let the silence stretch just long enough to tease him before answering. "I'm in."
"Good," he said, satisfaction in his tone. "I'll text you the details."
They exchanged a few more words before hanging up, and Esmé exhaled slowly, letting the moment settle.
Then, with a quiet hum, she turned back to her cleaning, swaying to the rhythm of her music, her pajamas loose and comfortable as she danced through the morning.
Tonight, would be perfect.
...
The afternoon stretched into evening as Esmé moved through her apartment, music humming softly in the background. She had spent the last hour picking out dresses, holding each one against her frame, turning in the mirror, searching for the perfect balance—something that said she was down for whatever, without actually having to say it.
But that was the problem.
She wasn't the type to ask outright.
Instead, she let the fabric speak for her—the way it hugged her just right, the way the color softened her features. She applied her makeup with careful precision, all while swaying to the rhythm of her playlist, the excitement bubbling beneath her skin.
By the time she was ready, she felt confident. Perfect.
Then Noah arrived.
Esmé stepped outside, her heels clicking lightly against the pavement as she approached his car.
And that's when she realized—she had definitely overdressed.
Noah leaned against the driver's side, dressed in something effortlessly cool—formal enough to show effort, but casual enough to suggest he hadn't agonized over it.
She swallowed a laugh, admitting to herself that she had gone way overboard.
Still, when he saw her, his expression shifted—just slightly, just enough for her to catch the flicker of appreciation in his eyes.
He opened the door for her, his voice easy. "You look great."
Esmé slid into the seat, offering a small, knowing smile. "You too."
And just like that, the night began.
As they drove through the city streets, Noah glanced at Esmé with a smirk. "I have to admit, the way you're dressed puts me to shame."
Esmé chuckled, shaking her head. "I think it's the opposite—I definitely overdid it."
Noah grinned. "Good. That way, people will think I'm the lucky one."
She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her smile lingered.
The drive was easy, filled with light conversation and the occasional teasing remark. When they finally pulled up to the restaurant, Esmé took in the elegant exterior—the kind of place that required reservations, where the lighting was soft and the atmosphere carried a quiet sophistication.
Noah led the way inside, and soon they were seated at their table, menus in hand.
They ordered, and as the evening unfolded, conversation flowed effortlessly.
Between bites of food, Noah launched into stories about his past—his childhood antics, the ridiculous things he and Seraphina had gotten into over the years.
"She once convinced me that if I held my breath long enough, I'd unlock some kind of hidden superpower," he said, shaking his head. "I nearly passed out before she finally admitted she made it up."
Esmé laughed, the image of a young Noah falling for his sister's tricks too amusing to ignore. "Sounds like she kept you on your toes."
"Oh, constantly," he said. "She still does."
Their laughter blended into the hum of the restaurant, the conversation stretching into something easy, something natural.
For a moment, Esmé let herself enjoy it—not just the food, not just the atmosphere, but the way Noah made everything feel light.
Noah leaned back slightly, swirling his drink in his hand as he studied Esmé. "Alright, aside from being a teacher, what else do you have going on? What would interest me?"
Esmé tilted her head, considering him for a moment before answering with quiet ease. "Well… the rest of my family is dead."
Her tone was light—too light for the weight of the words.
Noah blinked, caught off guard, but before he could react, she offered a small, playful smile. "Didn't mean to ruin the mood."
He exhaled, nodding slowly. "It's fine. I get it." His voice softened slightly. "I lost both of my parents too."
Esmé laughed—not at him, but at the strange, unspoken understanding between them.
Then, for the briefest moment, a flash of memory struck her—her parents, lying on the floor, blood pooling beneath them.
She blinked, pushing it away.
With practiced ease, she shifted the conversation. "I joined the army when I was younger," she said casually, picking at her food. "And I take judo lessons. Hiking too—I love being outside, being around people. It makes me happy."
Another flicker of memory—following Noah, watching him move through his life, unnoticed.
Noah raised an eyebrow, smirking. "So you know how to fight?"
Esmé met his gaze, her lips curling slightly. "I know how to kill."
The words hung in the air for a beat too long.
Noah forced a laugh, shaking his head. "Well, remind me not to get on your bad side."
Esmé chuckled, letting the tension dissolve as Noah added onto the joke, steering the conversation back into lighter territory.
And just like that, the moment passed.