Chapter Nineteen
Nic
August 13, 2025
Dear Ms. Wells,
Good news! We would like to inform you that your apartment is now fully restored and has passed inspection by both the City
of Seattle and the Seattle Fire Department. Repairs continue on the lower floors of the building, but engineers have declared
the building structurally sound. You may check in with the front office and return to your apartment any time after 9 a.m.
tomorrow.
Please contact us via phone or email by August 31to inform us of your intent to move back in, or if you would like to discuss
the possibility of ending your lease. August’s rent has been fully waived. Should you decide to move back in, your next rent
check will be due September 5. Once again, we appreciate your patience and understanding as we navigate this difficult situation.
The email haunts me all day.
I text Kira to let her know right away, of course, but it takes me a full five minutes to compose the message and hit Send.
I try very hard not to think about why that is, but every time there’s a break in between meetings and lab work, all other
thoughts are fully evicted.
This shouldn’t be hard. Staying with Kira and Grace was always going to be a temporary arrangement. Sure, it’s about two weeks
earlier than expected, but that should be a good thing, right? Back in my own space. Back in my own bed, if the “odor-controlling mattress enclosure” I bought actually contains
the smoke stink.
Pretty sure the “back in my own bed” part is the real problem here, though.
I take a late afternoon break and wander into the grad student break room, which is dominated by posters on “The Chemistry
of Coffee’s Aroma” and artfully rendered caffeine molecules. There’s an entire countertop full of coffee- and tea-making devices,
and a cabinet above it with the leaves, beans, and grounds. There’s everything from an electric kettle with instant coffee
to elaborate pour-over systems and French presses with single-origin beans to use in the coffee grinder. I find the whole
setup endearing, which is part of why I use this break room. Technically I could use the one for faculty, but I’m only just out of grad school myself. It feels weird. Most days, I’m sure that at any second, someone will find out I’m actually three
toddlers in a lab coat with a baking soda and vinegar volcano instead of a master’s graduate with a real science job who knows
what the hell she’s doing. Maybe one day I’ll feel like a big kid.
I opt for the most complicated coffee I can make, using a replica nineteenth-century contraption that involves a little burner
and a vacuum flask. I feel very old-timey and fancy whenever I use it, and it makes a great cup of coffee. While the coffee
brews, I froth up some oat milk, staring into the creamy bubbles like they might hold the answers to life. And Kira.
Should I just be honest with myself, or will that only make it worse?
The number of times I’ve asked myself that exact question in my adult lifetime should probably concern me. This is what Gabe
the tarot reader was talking about, probably—my default mode of only looking at my feelings out of my peripheral vision, ready
to avert my inner gaze at the first sign of discomfort.I’m zoned out for too long, apparently, because hot milk and foam
splatters onto my hand, overflowing its vessel.
“Ah, shit!” I hiss, dropping the frother and diving for a towel. That’s what I get for indulging my traitor brain. There’s
nothing to think about here. Yes, I feel weird about leaving Kira and Grace’s place, but who wouldn’t miss living with someone who’s an excellent cook and an excellent eater of things that are definitely not food? I’d be a fool not to feel some kind of way about it. And even if there is something vaguely in the general region of feelings developing, I’ve got to ignore it for now. Skylar’s not-a-bachelorette party is in a week, and her grand not-a-wedding party
is the week after. I should be focusing on spending time with my best friend before she leaves the country.
Besides, this thing with Kira is supposed to be casual, like we agreed . And no matter how much I might— maybe —want to consider otherwise... it’s too soon to be clinging to another person. I can’t go straight from being obsessed
with Skylar for years to latching onto Kira. That’s exactly what Skylar told me not to do.
Be your own anchor , I repeat in my head as I add the milk to the coffee with a dash of maple syrup. Be your own anchor, not a sad barnacle on Kira’s side.
Despite the splattering, the coffee is perfect. I head back to my office with my head slightly clearer, finally ready for
some science.
When I arrive home, everything gets confusing all over again.
I stay late at work that evening to make up for my spacey, unproductive morning, so it’s already getting dark when I walk
in to find the table set with the nice dishes, candles burning in the center, and Kira bustling around in the kitchen.
“Hey, there you are!” she says, stopping on her way to the table to give me a kiss, glass dish of enchiladas in hand. “Perfect
timing. Hungry?”
“Always,” I say with a longing stare at the enchiladas. They smell incredible . But most of my brain is still lingering on that kiss a second ago. Automatic affection. A quick peck.
Felt... relationship-y. Not like something you do when your regular hookup comes home.
“This is fancy,” I say warily, slipping my shoes off and throwing my keys on the counter. There’s an open bottle of wine on
the table. Kira’s phone is humming a steady stream of quiet music.
“Well, you know, you’re going back to your apartment, so I thought we should have a proper send-off,” Kira says, peeking over
her shoulder at me with soft eyes and a small smile. “Wanna go get changed? This’ll be ready in a minute.”
I drift off into the bedroom to strip out of my work clothes in a daze.
This is... weird, right? This whole thing is suddenly feeling very intimate. Maybe that’s a weird thing to say, considering
that my fingers and tongue have been on and in her so much lately, but this is on a different level. It feels like a date,
way more than the night of the tarot reading did. With the look in Kira’s eyes tonight...
I shove the thought out of my mind and pull-on sweatpants and an old T-shirt, deliberately going informal to tone down the
atmosphere that’s developing here. I’ll just play ignorant. Feelings? What feelings? Nothing to talk about on that front for
either of us. Why would I ever think otherwise?
But when I come back out, Kira pours me a glass of merlot and captures my mouth in a longer, slower kiss, our fingers intertwined
around the wineglass stem. I lose myself in it for a long moment before snapping back to reality.
“I’m starving. Can we eat?” I say at an awkwardly loud volume, cringing at myself even as I flee to the safety of my chair.
With a table between us, I can breathe a little easier. We dig in, and Kira starts in on a story about Grace, who is essentially
living at the studio these days, crashing in a cot room so she can get right back to work—sadly, not all that unusual in the
video game industry. As we talk, things... ease. I tell her about my silly complicated coffee and some minor drama between
two of the engineering grad students, and the evening flows. It’s fine. Nice.
Right up until the point where Kira lays her fork down and looks across the table at me, candlelight dancing in her eyes as
her mouth quirks into a tiny affectionate smile.
“Nic, I... I wanted to talk you about something,” she begins, and my body slams into fight-or-flight mode the second the words leave her mouth.
I knew it. I knew tonight felt different. I can’t do this. I have to get out of here. I’m not ready. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want
to not be with her. I just can’t do... whatever this is. Panic, panic , PANIC.
I rack my brain for an excuse, any excuse that will get me out of here without having to hear the words I know are coming—
It’s an honest relief when my phone lights up—with an actual call , no less—interrupting whatever terrifying thing Kira is building up to.
Then I see who it is.
“Oh,” I say in surprise, a snake of dread coiling in my stomach. “It’s my supervisor at the lab. I should take this.”
Kira’s brows knit in concern. “Yeah, of course. Hope everything’s okay.”
I dash into the bedroom, relieved to have a break from the Kira-related tension, at least, and answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Nic, it’s Dr. Birk. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
The snake in my belly curls tighter, hissing a threat. Did I mess something up? Did I leave something dangerous out in the
lab? No, I’m always meticulous in the lab; it’s the one part of my life where I’m never a mess. What then? Dr. Birk clears
his throat awkwardly, then sighs.
“We’ve been informed that our grant funding will not be renewed,” he says, his light Danish accent softening the absolute
destruction the words bring. “I’m afraid your contract will be ending in December instead of June. I’m so sorry, Nic. We’ve
really enjoyed having you in the lab, and I’ll let you know immediately if any other positions come up before December.”
December.
Fuck .
I reply in a fog, somehow ending the conversation and hanging up without processing any of it.
December.
Everything is falling apart.
Skylar is leaving. Skylar and I are never happening. The job that lets me afford my apartment is gone. And...
I peek out the cracked door to see Kira clearing our dinner dishes from the table and bringing out dessert. The lit candle
in the middle of the table flickers and flares, shining through the wineglass next to it. Kira hums quietly to herself, a
small, private smile at the corner of her mouth. I love that smile. I want to kiss that smile.
But then I picture the look in her eyes just before I got the call, the words I could feel perched at the end of her tongue, and my heart leaps into a frantic race.
I should never have come back to Seattle. Maybe I was meant to stay in Maryland for my PhD after all. They wanted me to. I
loved the research. I’d be so excited to work with my old advisor again. Maybe it’s not too late.
But right now, Kira is waiting for me.
I step out of the bedroom and attempt to force a smile, but I’m deeply unsuccessful, judging by the way Kira’s good mood falls
away in an instant.
“What happened? Are you okay?” she asks.
Her eyes are so soft, her hands lifting to reach for me, and I can’t help it—I flinch away. The hurt in her eyes, the flickering
candlelight, the perfect little mini cakes waiting on the table, and those echoing, unspoken words from earlier, terrifying
and wonderful and... god, I want to hear them.
I can admit it. I want to hear them.
But I can’t repeat the past, can’t cling to Kira just because Skylar is leaving.And maybe this is real, and I should give it a chance, should let Kira say those words... but I chicken out. I can’t deal with it right now.
I’m not even sure I can stay in Seattle anymore.
“I’m not feeling well,” I say, eyes fixed on mycarbon atom socks. “I think I’m gonna go to bed early.”
“O... kay,” Kira says. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No!” I yelp, even as my brain screams, Yes! You were too perfect, too kind, too talented, too beautiful, too loving , and I am absolutely not a person you should love. You’ve done everything wrong, Kira, and you have no idea.
“Just feeling a bit sick,” I say. “I’m sorry. Thank you for dinner and... everything. Good night.”
I don’t know why I don’t tell her about my job ending.
I don’t know why I don’t mention the ten thousand contingency plans already running through my head.
I just lie down in our shared bed, fully clothed, and pretend to be asleep when Kira comes in to check on me.
The next day, as I stand in my newly cleaned apartment with my few meager boxes of belongings, I call up my advisor from my
master’s degree. She’s always had office hours at the same time every Thursday, and I’m hoping she won’t be meeting with a
student, because I might explode if I don’t talk about this. The phone rings once, twice...
There’s a CLICK.
“Dr. Iyengar,” the voice on the other end says.
“Oh, thank God,” I say, then slap a hand over my mouth. “I mean, hi, Dr. Iyengar.”
“Nic? Is that you?” she asks, a laugh in her voice. I wince.
“Right. I should have said that. Sorry. It’s me. Nic. Nicole Wells.”
Why am I like this? God , I did a whole master’s thesis with this woman. I can talk to her like a human.
“ Anyway ,” I say, desperate to get past my awkwardness. “I was hoping you had a few minutes to talk?”
“Well, if you’re calling about coming back for a PhD like I asked you to, then you can have all the time you like,” Dr. Iyengar
says with a teasing tone. When I’m silent for a beat too long, she adds: “Wait, are you thinking about coming back?”
“I am,” I say quickly before I can chicken out. “Yes. I just... I was wondering if it was too late to be considered for
January enrollment. I’m not really sure how it works, but the website says applications are considered on a rolling basis,
and...”
I ramble on about my lab losing its grant funding until Dr. Iyengar saves me. “Just send in your application materials as
soon as possible. The committee meets regularly to review whatever applications have come in, and I’ll make sure we meet soon
enough to consider you for January. List me on your form for a recommendation letter, and I’ll get that done as soon as I
can.”
“Wow,” I say, stunned that it’s this easy. “Why? I mean, thank you. But... yeah, why?”
Dr. Iyengar laughs. “We coauthored two papers together, Nic! I loved working with you, and our research interests overlap
so well. Working with you on a doctoral thesis would be a blast. I can’t promise anything, of course, but you’ll have a strong
advocate at the table.”
“Wow,” I say again, apparently unable to come up with anything else. “Thanks again, Dr. Iyengar. Really, it would be amazing
to join your lab again. I’ll get my application in by the end of the week.”
Five minutes ago, I hadn’t actually made up my mind about it, but after this short conversation with my old advisor, I’m ready
to hit Submit on that application right now. I was considering applying to a different school too, just to increase my chances.
But there’s not much choice when it comes to fire science programs, and I already know I love the University of Maryland and
Dr. Iyengar. That’s where I’ll have my best shot.
I intend to sleep on it, to give it a few days and consider if it’s really what I want.
Instead, I stay up late updating my CV, writing a statement of purpose, throwing together a description of research experience
and interests, and digging up writing samples from my published journal articles. I’m technically applying to the materials
science and engineering PhD program, since U of M only offers a Master’s degree in fire protection engineering, but the two
programs encourage crossover, and Dr. Iyengar serves as faculty in both. I already know exactly what they’re looking for and
which research project I’m interested in joining. I only just left my master’s program a few months ago, so it’s fresh. It’s
easy.
I hit Send at 2:00 a.m. and collapse into bed, determined not to think of how disappointed in me Kira will be.
There’s nothing to tell yet, anyway.
If I get rejected, no one ever needs to know.