Chapter 108 - Home
Layla became my girlfriend because apparently one of us had to eventually acknowledge what we were doing.
It happened on a Tuesday.
Not over candlelight.
Not during a dramatic sunset.
Not after a near-death experience.
We were eating takeout in her apartment.
She had ordered chicken.
I had ordered noodles.
We were sharing both because apparently ordering separate food had become theoretical.
Layla was scrolling through something on her phone when she asked—
"So what are we?"
I stopped chewing.
There it was.
The terrifying conversation.
I swallowed.
"People eating dinner?"
She looked at me.
"Lia."
"Sorry."
She put her phone down.
"We've been dating for almost two months."
"Correct."
"You spend half your weekends here."
"Accurate."
"I have clothes at your house."
"One shirt."
"Three."
I frowned.
"Really?"
"Yes."
Interesting.
"And you have a toothbrush here."
I looked toward her bathroom.
"That's logistics."
She stared.
I stared back.
Then she laughed.
"Okay. Logistics."
"Very important."
"So?"
"So what?"
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"
Direct.
Of course.
I liked that about her.
No trap.
No guessing.
No—
You should already know.
Just a question.
I smiled.
"Yeah."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Okay."
I waited.
"That's it?"
"What do you want?"
"I don't know."
"Should I make a presentation?"
"No."
"Good."
She picked up her fork again.
I stared at her.
Then laughed.
"You're my girlfriend now."
"Apparently."
"Okay."
"Very expressive."
"Shut up."
She smiled.
And just like that, we were official.
No fireworks.
No orchestra.
No universe changing shape around us.
Just Layla stealing another piece of chicken from my container while I realized I had a girlfriend.
Nice.
Domesticity happened accidentally.
First, the toothbrush.
Then shampoo.
Then a charger.
Then Layla bought the coffee I liked without asking.
I opened her cabinet one morning and found it there.
I stared.
She walked past me.
"What?"
"You bought my coffee."
"You finished the other one."
"I could've brought more."
"You could have."
I looked at the container again.
"Okay."
She stopped.
"Lia."
"Hmm?"
"You look emotional."
"I'm not emotional."
"You look like I bought you a house."
"It's the correct coffee."
She laughed.
"You're weird."
"Correct."
Then it was food.
She learned I didn't like overly sweet drinks.
I learned she hated raisins with unreasonable intensity.
She liked crispy edges on fried eggs.
I liked softer ones.
So we cooked them differently.
No one suffered.
Groundbreaking.
She preferred colder rooms.
I got cold faster.
Solution:
Blanket.
Apparently civilization had already solved this problem.
One night, I woke up because the air conditioner was trying to preserve us for archaeological recovery.
Layla was asleep beside me.
I considered getting up.
Did not want to.
So I pulled the blanket higher.
She moved without waking and pulled me closer.
I froze.
Not because it was shocking.
Because it wasn't.
That was the strange part.
Her arm around me felt familiar in the way repeated ordinary things became familiar.
Not memory.
Not another life.
Not some ghost of a relationship she didn't remember.
Just repetition.
Current repetition.
Current Layla.
I relaxed.
Went back to sleep.
The next morning, she looked at me while making coffee.
"You stole the blanket."
"You set the room to Antarctica."
"It was twenty-three."
"Hostile."
"You're dramatic."
"Small people lose heat faster."
She stared.
"Is that science?"
"Yes."
"Convenient science."
"Still science."
She handed me my coffee.
Correct amount of creamer.
No sugar.
I took it.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, tiny mammal."
I stared.
She smiled.
I loved her a little for that.
Which was inconvenient.
The business kept growing.
Because apparently that was also allowed.
We finally approved the additional machine after actual utilization supported it.
Not because I wanted shiny equipment.
Not because growth demanded constant reinvestment.
Because the numbers made sense.
The bottleneck was real.
Outsourcing had become more expensive than owning the capacity.
Maintenance costs were projected.
Installation included.
Operator training scheduled.
Cash available.
No debt required.
Beautiful.
I signed the approval.
Then went home at six.
Six.
A functioning business owner.
Unbelievable.
Layla was at my place that evening.
She was sitting at the dining table with Sofia, both of them looking at something on Sofia's phone.
I walked in.
Neither looked up immediately.
Interesting.
"Hello?"
Sofia raised one finger.
"Wait."
I stared.
Layla glanced at me.
"Hi."
"Hi."
Then she looked back at the phone.
I put my bag down.
"Am I unnecessary in my own house now?"
Sofia:
"Yes."
Layla:
"Temporarily."
"Excellent."
I went to wash my hands.
When I came back, Layla had already put food on my plate.
I stopped.
She looked at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You have that face again."
"What face?"
"Like something normal offended you emotionally."
I sat.
"I can serve myself."
"I know."
"Okay."
"So eat."
I ate.
Very advanced relationship.
Later, Sofia went upstairs.
Mama and Papa went to bed.
Layla and I stayed at the table.
I told her about the machine.
She listened.
Then asked—
"Are you excited?"
I thought about it.
"Actually, yes."
"Good."
"It should increase capacity without adding stupid hours."
"Even better."
I looked at her.
No valuation question.
No expansion plan.
No—
What's next?
She never seemed to believe every achievement required immediate escalation.
It was refreshing.
"You know," I said, "old me would've probably bought two."
"Why?"
"In case one wasn't enough."
"Did you need two?"
"No."
She stared.
"Then that's stupid."
I laughed.
"Exactly."
"You were stupid?"
"Historically."
"Good to know."
I leaned back.
She took my hand.
Just casually.
No ceremony.
I looked down at our fingers.
Then at her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Again with nothing."
"I like this."
She squeezed my hand once.
"Me too."
That was all.
I started spending nights at Layla's apartment more often.
Not every night.
We both liked our own spaces.
Sometimes she wanted to go home alone after work and exist without speaking.
I understood.
Sometimes I wanted the same thing.
No one interpreted it as rejection.
Very convenient.
One Friday, I had a long day.
Not catastrophic.
Just long.
Supplier issue.
Machine installation delay.
Customer revision.
Two meetings.
By six-thirty, everything was resolved.
I could have stayed another two hours checking details.
No one asked me to.
No one needed me to.
Still, I sat at my desk.
Old instinct.
If I stayed, I could review tomorrow's production schedule personally.
I could check purchasing.
I could verify the installation checklist.
I could—
My phone buzzed.
Layla:
coming over?
I stared.
Then looked around the office.
Ops was still there.
Not because I required it.
Their shift hadn't ended yet.
My operations lead walked past.
Saw me.
"Ma'am, uuwi na po kayo?"
I almost laughed.
Was I?
"I think so."
"Okay po."
No pleading.
No—
But ma'am, what if something happens?
Because if something happened, competent adults existed.
I closed my laptop.
Lia:
yes
Then:
Lia:
do you need anything?
Layla:
you
I stopped.
Stared.
Then another message arrived.
Layla:
and maybe ice cream
I laughed.
There.
Better.
Lia:
priorities
Layla:
correct
I bought ice cream.
Went to her apartment.
She opened the door wearing an old shirt and shorts.
No makeup.
Hair tied badly.
Beautiful.
Annoying.
"Hi."
"Hi."
She took the ice cream.
Then kissed me.
"Thanks."
"For me or the ice cream?"
"Both."
"Good answer."
She walked toward the kitchen.
I followed.
There was nothing dramatic waiting for me there.
No business crisis.
No emotional conversation.
No relationship test.
We ate dinner.
Watched something terrible.
I put my head on her lap.
She played with my hair.
At some point, I realized I was tired.
Not dying tired.
Not forty-five-year-old body collapsing under years of abuse tired.
Just—
Friday.
Long week.
Tired.
I closed my eyes.
"You sleeping?" Layla asked.
"Maybe."
"Go sleep."
"Movie."
"It's terrible."
"True."
"Bed."
I opened one eye.
"Bossy."
"Yes."
Normally, I would've stayed awake.
Finished the movie.
Checked messages.
Reviewed tomorrow.
Maybe opened my laptop just to make sure everything was fine.
Instead, I stood.
Brushed my teeth.
With my toothbrush.
At her sink.
Changed into clothes I had apparently accumulated in one drawer.
One whole drawer.
Terrifying.
Then got into bed.
Layla joined me a few minutes later.
I was asleep almost immediately.
The business survived.
Again.
The next morning, I woke at seven.
No alarm.
Layla was still asleep.
I reached for my phone.
Stopped.
Interesting.
I looked at her instead.
Not for long.
I respected sleep boundaries.
Historical lessons.
I got out of bed.
Made coffee.
Opened my phone in the kitchen.
There were messages.
Nothing urgent.
Production running.
Machine installation scheduled for Monday.
One supplier confirmation.
No disaster.
I closed the app.
Layla appeared a few minutes later.
Hair worse.
Eyes half open.
"Coffee?"
"Already made."
She looked at the cup waiting for her.
Then at me.
"You're useful."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Dangerous language."
"What?"
"Useful."
"Why?"
I leaned against the counter.
Because I had spent too many lives proving my worth by being useful.
Because being needed everywhere had once felt dangerously close to being loved.
Because I knew exactly how easy it was to become indispensable and call that intimacy.
Layla looked more awake now.
"Lia?"
I shook my head.
"Nothing."
"No. Tell me."
I looked at her.