The kitchen island was a monument to excess: a single slab of dark stone, so wide that Theo had to lean forward to rest his elbows on it. The high-gloss barstools squeaked if you so much as looked at them. He chose the one at the farthest end, near the window, set his phone facedown on the counter, and stared at his reflection in the darkened glass.

  The silence was crisp, a vacuum after a lifetime of working in offices where “open concept” was just code for everyone having to hear each other breathe. He could almost imagine the chorus of keyboards, the bitter tang of burned coffee, the familiar cadence of his team’s voices. Here, the only sounds were the distant hum of LA traffic and, occasionally, Kristina’s feet padding down the hall as she inventoried closets, probably wondering how long this new normal would last.

  He scrolled to the group chat—“The Crew (Est. Chaos 2013)”—and hovered over Start Call.

  Kristina appeared in the doorway, arms crossed over an oversized T-shirt, her hair loose from a bun. She didn’t speak, but her look said it all: Do what you need to do. I’ll be here.

  Theo nodded, hit the button, and waited.

  Marcus’s face popped up first, half-lit by the glow of a gaming monitor. “Well, well, the prodigal engineer returns! Look who finally remembered his friends.”

  Elena joined next, wrapped in a cardigan with a glass of wine in hand. “Marcus, let him breathe. Theo, are you okay? You dropped off the map.”

  Then Darren appeared last, wearing headphones and holding a bowl of cereal like it was a negotiation tactic. “It’s 9 p.m., Marcus is still sober, and Theo’s calling us. This can’t be good.”

  Theo tried for casual, but his voice betrayed him. “Hey, guys. Sorry for ghosting. Things got a little… complicated.”

  Marcus grinned, leaning closer. “Complicated as in hangover complicated, or married-in-Vegas complicated?”

  Theo’s silence stretched just long enough for Elena to set down her wine. “Oh my God, Marcus, that’s not funny.”

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  He sighed. “No, it’s fine. I got stupid drunk and…yeah, it’s not what it looked like.”

  Darren raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘looked like.’”

  Theo rubbed his forehead. “We didn’t file anything official. It’s… complicated. I don’t really want to get into it right now.”

  Elena’s voice softened. “That’s okay, Theo. Just…take care of yourself. We were worried.”

  Marcus still looked skeptical. “You sure you’re not in some kind of cult? Blink twice if you need extraction.”

  Elena shot a hard look at the screen. “Marcus.”

  Darren spooned another bite of cereal, watching the exchange like a scientist observing chaos. “So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that he went from being married to not being married?”

  Theo managed a thin smile. “You’re all very comforting, you know that?”

  Elena leaned toward the camera. “We’re serious, Theo. Take time. Whatever’s going on—you’ll figure it out.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Elena. I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime,” she said, smiling softly. “And Theo?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re not robots. Don’t disappear on us again, okay?”

  He laughed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Promise.”

  When the call ended, the apartment fell quiet again. He heard Kristina’s footsteps approach, felt her presence before he saw her. She leaned against the opposite side of the island, hands flat on the surface.

  “How bad was it?” she asked, voice soft.

  He shook his head. “Not bad. I just hate lying. Especially to my friends.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.” Her fingers fidgeted with the drawstring on her pants. “I wish I could make it easier.”

  He wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, that he’d been lying to everyone about something for a whole year. Instead, he said, “We’ll figure it out. It’s just—” He gestured at the expanse of the kitchen, the surreal calm of the condo. “All of this is a little much.”

  She grinned, the tension lifting a hair. “It’s temporary. We get privacy and discretion here.”

  He looked at her, saw the flicker of regret behind her bravado. “Will we get used to it?”

  She let the question hang, then shrugged. “No. But we will learn how to survive it. Together.”

  He pushed off from the stool, walked around the island until they were shoulder to shoulder. He reached for her hand, squeezed it.

  “I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She closed her eyes, let the words sink in. When she opened them, her whole posture had changed—lighter, as if a thread of her anxiety had been cut.

  “Let’s not do any more chores tonight,” she said. “Let’s just…be here. Pretend we’re normal people.”

  He laughed. “I have no idea what normal people do in places like this.”

  She squeezed his hand, led him toward the balcony. “Neither do I,” she confessed. “But we can make it up as we go.”

  They stood side by side, looking out over the city, the sunset giving way to the first scattered lights of evening.

  For the first time since the world had flipped itself upside down, the undertow of panic eased.

  They were in it together, for better or for worse.