= Chris POV =

I got home with a bag of leftovers in hand, the savory aroma already filling the hallway outside my door. Sarah loved the stuff I brought back from the hotel, so I had picked out her favorites—pastries, smoked salmon salad, baked potatoes, and a tub of pasta smothered in chicken and cheese. It was comfort food heaven, and I figured it might soften her up after yesterday’s awkward tension.

I jingled my keys, but before I could even unlock the door, it swung open.

Sarah stood there beaming, her hair tied up in a messy bun, with an apron and gloves that somehow made her look more adorable than capable.

“You’re home!” she said, practically bouncing on her heels. “I hope you like what I did. I tried my best.”

She stepped aside with an expectant grin, letting me in.

I stepped inside—and my stomach immediately dropped.

Oh no.

I had asked her to clean—the whole apartment—but what I walked into was a crime scene.

The first thing I noticed was the ceiling fan. It was spotless—but the floor directly beneath it? A graveyard of black streaks and dusty footprints. She hadn’t put down any newspaper or sheets, which meant she must’ve stepped all over the fallen grime without realizing it.

And the walls—oh, the walls. Streaked with murky splashes of dirty water, as though she’d tried to clean the windows and missed. Badly.

My gaze traveled to the curtains. Were they… dripping?

I squinted. Yes. She’d apparently tried to wash them by hand—without taking them off the hooks.

The couch wasn’t spared either. It was coated in a layer of black dust from the fan, and I suddenly realized I had never checked if the professional cleaners touched the fans at all. Not that it mattered anymore—it looked like a coal mine had exploded in my living room.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah chirped, oblivious to my internal breakdown. “I was just looking for the vacuum cleaner, but then I realized I hadn’t made dinner yet, so I started cooking!”

Her voice was bright—proud even—and for a split second, I questioned if maybe I was the problem.

But then my gaze flicked to the kitchen.

The kitchen.

I froze.

There was… batter?

Batter everywhere.

The countertops were covered in white splatters, and bits of what looked suspiciously like raw fish lay scattered around cutting boards and knives. The fryer was out, and oil splatters marked the backsplash tiles like evidence in a forensic report.

I stepped inside and immediately felt something wet and sticky underfoot. I looked down.

Batter. Again.

I clenched my jaw and carefully put down the bag of hotel food on the only clean corner of the counter.

Sarah, still glowing with enthusiasm, suddenly gasped. “Oh no! I dropped the bowl—let me just—” She bent down, bare hands reaching for the sticky mess on the floor.

“Stop!” I barked.

She froze mid-motion, wide-eyed and startled like a deer caught in headlights. The light in her eyes dimmed slightly, and guilt clawed at my chest.

I sucked in a breath and held up my hands in surrender. “I’m not mad,” I said, though the tension in my voice probably betrayed me. “Don’t look at me like that—I swear I’m not mad.”

Sarah straightened up slowly, her lips pressed into a worried line as she stepped away.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found the number for the apartment’s cleaning service.

The receptionist answered on the second ring. “Hello, Ms. Fairfield. Did you want to cancel your next cleaning as well?”

“No,” I said sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I need an emergency session. The apartment got… attacked by a cat, and it’s a mess now. How soon can someone come by?”

Sarah perked up instantly. “A cat?” she whispered, glancing around as though she expected one to leap out of the shadows.

I ignored her.

“We can have a team there in thirty minutes,” the receptionist said cheerfully. “Will you be home at the time?”

“No, I’ll be out. Just have someone call me when it’s back to normal.”

“Got it. Have a good day, ma’am.”

I hung up and turned to Sarah, who was still glancing nervously around the room.

“What cat?” she asked.

“You,” I said flatly. “You are the cat.”

She blinked at me.

I gestured around the apartment. “Destructive but adorable—and completely unaware of the chaos you’ve caused.”

Her mouth fell open, and then she burst out laughing. The sound was light and infectious, and despite myself, I felt the tension in my shoulders start to ease.

I shook my head and smirked. “I brought food from the hotel. Let’s eat at the park—after I wash my feet.”

Sarah grinned and followed me out of the kitchen as I carefully tiptoed toward the bathroom, dodging the mess like it was a minefield.

As I scrubbed the batter off my foot, I tried to push aside the frustration, focusing instead on how ridiculously proud Sarah had looked when she opened that door.

She really had tried.

And despite the disaster zone she’d left in her wake, I couldn’t bring myself to stay mad.

Not when she looked at me like that.