By the time Ava and Zach reentered the house, it had suspiciously gone quiet.
Too quiet.
No rice cooker beeping, no Adelle muttering dark curses at a cat. Just an eerie domestic stillness. Ava exchanged a look with Zach.
"I don't like this," she whispered. "Where's the chaos? Where's the—"
The living room lights flicked on with an ominous hum.
And there he was.
Shen Wang.
In a fitted navy suit, no less, standing in their living room like he owned the zip code. His jet-black hair was perfectly coiffed, his shoes could double as mirrors, and he held a bouquet so extravagant it looked like it had been arranged by an entire wedding planning committee high on ambition and Pinterest boards.
"Ava," he said with that smooth, slow voice that always made her left eye twitch. "You look radiant, even in loungewear."
Ava looked down. She was, in fact, wearing Zach's hoodie and socks with cartoon otters on them.
"Shen," she said flatly. "What are you doing here?"
