Chapter 42. A Tea Night That Will Leads To A Special Night Only For Her

He opened the door before she knocked a second time.

Petricia stood in the hallway, wearing a cardigan over her day clothes, indicating she had dressed down but hadn’t fully changed, suggesting she had given it some thought. She held nothing—no paperwork, no excuse.

"You didn’t make tea," she said, looking past him into the apartment. "What a liar..."

"No," Mike said.

She looked at him. "You said you were going to make tea."

"I said I was going to make tea, so I asked if you wanted some." He stepped back from the door. "Come in."

She entered the room with the air of someone who had already made up their mind to come in but was controlling the pace of their movement. She paused near the desk, glanced at the open book there, looked out the window, and directed her gaze anywhere but at him.

"It’s so late calling me here," she said.

"It’s nine-fifteen," Mike stated as he shut the door.

"Gerald could wake up."

"Gerald sleeps through the building alarm, which you mentioned to me during the first week."

She turned around. "I told you that as a building safety concern."

"I know," Mike said. "I remember everything you tell me."

She looked at him with the expression of someone who had just been told something that sounded like a compliment and wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be. "That’s not reassuring."

"You came up anyway."

"I came up because—" She stopped.

"Because?" Mike said.

She didn’t respond to that. Instead, she folded her arms, indicating that she wanted to change the subject, even though she wasn’t actually doing so.

"You’ve been here for almost a week, and I can’t just ignore an offer like that..."

"I have."

"And you’ve been—" She paused, choosing the word carefully. "Present."

"Is that a complaint?" Mike said.

"It’s an observation."

"You’re good at those," Mike said.

He moved toward the kitchen side of the room, without approaching her, simply making his way there. "You noticed the transit maintenance issue before I did."

"You researched the Valcrest routes when Haruka and I started."

"You also replaced the flower with a succulent."

She went still. "That’s not related to anything."

"The succulent was a decision," Mike said. He leaned against the counter. "You made it the day after I came up here the first time."

"The glass was cracked," she said.

"Nah... I know that the glass was fine," Mike said. "I saw it before I gave you the flower."

"There was no crack."

Petricia looked at him with the expression of someone who had been caught in something small and was deciding whether to argue the details or acknowledge the larger thing. She was smart enough to know that arguing the details was the losing move.

"What do you want, Mike?" she said.

"I’m already here," he said. "I think the question is what you want."

"That’s not how this works."

"How does it work, then?"

She pressed her lips together. "You’re a tenant. I’m the building manager. Gerald and I—"

"Are having difficulties," Mike said.

She looked at him sharply. "I never said that..."

"You didn’t have to." He kept his tone level. "You check your phone when he’s talking."

"You started your paperwork after he went to bed..." Mike said. "The succulent is on your side of the office windowsill, not the center."

"You’re reading too much into small things," she said, but the certainty had dropped out of it.

"I read what’s there," Mike said. "That’s all."

She was quiet for a moment. He didn’t fill the silence.

"You do this," she said finally. "You just—"

She gestured vaguely. "You pay attention in a way that feels like something else."

"What does it feel like?" Mike said.

"Like being looked at," she said. "Properly... but not just seen."

"Is that a problem?"

She exhaled. "It’s inconvenient."

"For who?"

"For me," she said. "Clearly... you don’t seem inconvenienced by anything."

"I’m inconvenienced by the fact that you’re standing on that side of the room," Mike said.

She went very still.

He remained where he was, not approaching her. He simply stated it and allowed the words to settle.

"Mike," she said. Her voice took on a different quality—no longer a warning but rather a name spoken softly, as if it were the last clear thought in a room that had grown increasingly complicated.

"You’re allowed to stay on that side," he said. "I’m not going to push it, but I’m just telling you what’s true."

"You can’t just say things like that."

"I just did," he said.

"We can’t—" She stopped.

"This isn’t—" She stopped again.

"Take your time," Mike said.

"Stop being so calm about this," she said, with something that was almost frustration but was too charged to be only that.

"Would you prefer I wasn’t?"

"I’d prefer you acted like this was a normal situation."

"It’s not a normal situation," Mike said. "You’re in my apartment at nine-fifteen because I texted you about tea and you came up."

"We both know that’s not about tea."

She glanced at him, then looked away, and finally returned her gaze. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Say the thing that I’m thinking but won’t say out loud." She shook her head slightly. "It’s not fair."

"I’m not trying to be unfair," Mike said. "I’m trying to be clear... There’s a difference."

"You’re always trying to be clear," she said. "Has anyone ever told you that’s actually quite aggressive?"

"A few people," Mike said. "They came around eventually."

She almost laughed. It didn’t quite make it out, but it was there for a second. "I’m sure they did."

"You smiled," Mike said.

"I didn’t smile."

"You almost did."

"That’s not the same thing," Petricia said.

"Close enough," he said. "It counts."

She looked at him for a moment with the expression of someone who had prepared a specific kind of resistance and was noticing it wasn’t quite working the way she’d planned. "You know what your problem is?"

"Tell me," Mike said.

"You make everything sound reasonable," she said. "Tea at nine. Come up. The flower, the succulent, the uncracked glass."

She gestured at him. "You set everything up so that the conclusion feels inevitable, and by the time someone realizes what they’ve agreed to, it’s already too late."

"Is that what happened?" Mike said.

"I’m standing in your apartment at nine-fifteen," she said. "What would you call it?"

"I’d call it you making a decision," Mike said. "Not me making it for you."

"That’s a convenient way to look at it."

"It’s the accurate way," he said. "I texted you."

"You could have not answered and... you could have said no as well."

"You could have come up here and turned around the moment I opened the door." He held her gaze. "You didn’t do any of those things."

She was silent. Not the silence of someone who has nothing to say, but rather the silence of someone overwhelmed by thoughts.

"I’ve been married for nine years," she said finally.

"I know," Mike said.

"That’s not nothing."

"No," he agreed. "It’s not."

"Then why are you—" She paused, then began again. "Why does it feel like talking to you is the clearest thing I’ve done in months?"

Mike looked at her. "Because I listen to what you actually say," he said. "Not what’s convenient."

She glanced down for a moment before looking back up. "The succulent," she said.

"Yeah."

"I knew you’d notice."

"I know you knew," Mike said. "That’s why you did it."

Something in that landed in a way the other things had only approached. He could see it in the slight change in her posture, with her arms unfolding slightly and her careful management of distance becoming less cautious.

"This is a bad idea," she said.

"Probably," Mike agreed.

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

"And you’re still just standing there."

"I told you," Mike said. "You come to me, and still... that’s how this works."

"Why?" she said. "Why does it have to work like that?"

"Because I want you to be sure," he said. "I don’t want you to be able to say this happened to you."

"I want you to know you chose it."

She stared at him. Whatever she had expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

"That’s—" She stopped.

"What?" Mike said.

"That’s either the most considerate thing anyone has ever said to me," she said, "or the most calculated."

"Can’t it be both?" Mike said.

She let out a short breath that was the closest thing to a laugh she’d allowed herself since she walked in. "You’re impossible."

"And yet," Mike said.

"And yet," she agreed, quieter.

She looked at him, at his face she had been deliberately avoiding for the better part of three weeks, and then she said quietly, "Never... That’s the problem."

The room exuded a unique stillness, a moment that had traveled a long distance to arrive.

"You’re not going to say anything else, are you," she said.

"No," Mike said.

"Just going to stand there."

"Yes."

She exhaled. "You’re very sure of yourself."

"I’m sure of you," Mike said. "That’s different."

Then she studied him closely and took her time. The sounds of the building, the gentle groaning of the structure, the distant street sounds, the silence of a place where most people were sleeping, became not just background noise but the very texture of the moment.

Then she moved.

Not fast. Not dramatic. She stood just across the room, in the direct manner that Petricia used for most things once she had made her decisions.

She stopped in front of him.

"If you tell anyone," she said.

"I won’t," he said.

"I’m serious."

"So am I." He held her gaze. "When am I not serious?"

Mike reached up and tucked a strand of hair back from her face with the easy, unhurried certainty of someone who had already decided this was allowed and was simply doing it.

She didn’t step back.

"Petricia," he said.

"Don’t," she said. "Don’t say anything else smart."

"Okay," he said.

She closed the remaining distance herself.

[DESIRE LEVEL: PETRICIA SCHNEIDER — 100/100]

[MAXIMUM BOND ACHIEVED: PETRICIA SCHNEIDER]

[NOW’S YOUR CHANCE TO TAKE HER]