Zuri's POV:
I called my mom while sitting in the back of the taxi, my fingers nervously gripping the phone.
"Mom, could I stay at your second home for a few days?" I asked quickly, trying to sound calm but failing miserably.
"Zuri! Did you run away from your home?" my mother, Sandra, shot back in that strict, no-nonsense voice of hers.
"I didn't run, Mom… I just need a change of place." I took a shaky breath. "Please, can you tell me if I can move in there for a few days…please?"
"Zuri, I'm sorry, but I have rented that place out already," she replied. I could almost see her sighing on the other end. "But you can always come to stay with us if you are looking for a little break from your monotonous life." Her tone dripped with amusement when she said monotonous.
She thinks my life is boring. Well… she's not wrong, but that was about to change. She just didn't know it yet.
"I'll think about it, Mom. Thanks. Take care." I gave the phone a small kiss before ending the call, feeling a disappointed pang in my chest.
Mom's second home would have been perfect—it was one of the few places Asher didn't know about. Now, I had to find another option. A hotel was out of the question. If Asher decided to come looking, that's the second place he would check after checking with my mom. Not that he would bother looking for me…
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through an app, searching for a place I could book immediately, somewhere that accepted cash. I do not want to leave any electronic transactions trail using my bank card.
After a bit of searching, I found a duplex apartment with one room free for short stays. And it was available right away, accepted cash, and the building even had security.
Perfect!
Without wasting another second, I booked it, gave the taxi driver the address, and leaned back against the seat with a small sigh. My heart raced from my quick decision to leave home, scolding Asher and blocking him. Surprisingly, I felt a thrill from my actions. I thought this resillient part of me had died with Kevin's death, yet here it was, coming back to life.
After about an hour, I found myself standing before a large gated building. The place looked luxurious, like something out of a lifestyle magazine. Two security guards stood at the entrance. Their sharp eyes scanned me.
I couldn't help but wonder how someone ended up renting out a room here for short stays? People who lived in a building like this, with the kind of money they probably had, didn't exactly need to rent out spare rooms to travellers. But who was I to judge?
I showed my booking confirmation to the guards, and after a quick check, they waved me through.
I moved toward what I hoped would be my temporary haven.
I had already received an email with a code to retrieve the key from an automated machine in the lobby. I punched it in, and the small compartment popped open with a satisfying click, dropping the key into my palm.
Taking my suitcase behind me, I headed toward the elevator. My apartment was on the 11th floor—the highest floor of the building.
As the elevator doors slid open, I was greeted by white walls, polished floors, and the soft scent of lemon lingering in the air. I walked down the corridor, checking the apartment numbers. It seemed each floor only had two units—high-end, private, and quiet.
Finally, I stopped in front of the apartment I had rented for the week. I slipped the key into the door, and as it unlocked, I pushed it open and…
I was stunned.
The sheer size of the space took my breath away. The design was minimal but elegant—soft, neutral tones throughout, plush yet understated furniture, and an open-plan kitchen, dining, and living room blended harmoniously.
I quickly rechecked the email—yes, the ground-floor bedroom was mine. I spotted one door off to the side and opened it. Inside was a beautifully designed bedroom with a soft, calm palette, a spacious wardrobe, and an attached private bathroom.
Perfect!
I smiled, a small wave of satisfaction washing over me. I could actually pull this off. It felt warm here, welcoming—like the kind of place I could easily picture myself living in for a year, not just a week.
I dropped my bag in the room and wandered back to the living room, drawn by the massive windows. I walked over and gazed outside to look at the clear blue sky and the beautiful, vast English garden. For a moment, it reminded me of Asher's penthouse. I would not call it our house anymore... Atleast not for a week.
I wandered over to the kitchen counter, checking the fridge and cupboards to see if there was anything to eat.
Inside the fridge, I spotted fresh vegetables, eggs, and meat. There was a shiny coffee machine, an electric kettle, and Korn bread… and my eyes landed on the packed ramen sitting neatly on the shelf.
A smile spread across my face.
Perfect!
But first, I decided I needed a warm bath. I was still carrying the tension of the day on my shoulders. I let myself soak, taking my time, letting the hot water wash over me and relax every muscle. Once I stepped out, I felt lighter and refreshed.
Back in the kitchen, I grabbed some spring onions, capsicum, frozen green peas, carrots, and an egg from the fridge. I wasn't just making instant ramen—I was turning it into a little homemade healthy meal.
Soon, the kitchen filled with the warm, savoury aroma, and when I finally sat at the dining table to eat, I let out a small sigh of satisfaction.
It was simple but delicious.
After I cleaned up the dishes and wiped down the counter, I sank into the soft couch, lying back and letting my gaze drift to the enormous windows. The sky stretched wide above me, clouds drifting lazily across the fading afternoon light.
I have always loved watching the sky and the slow dance of the clouds—it reminded me of Sundays with Kevin. We would lie under the sun and watch the clouds roll by, pointing out shapes and laughing.
I didn't know why, but lately, Kevin had been on my mind more and more. His face, his voice, the quiet moments we used to share… why?
I hadn't realised when I drifted off—one moment, I was gazing at the clouds, and the next, I was wrapped in the soft haze of sleep.
I did not know how many hours passed, but a faint sound stirred me.
Click, and the door opens.
My drowsy eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dimming light as I slowly sat on the couch. I ran a hand over my face, trying to shake off the grogginess.
The figure at the door stepped in confidently, setting down a sleek, black leather office bag on the thin counter by the entrance. The person moved with a kind of ease, the casual grace of someone who knew this space belonged to him.
And then his gaze landed on me.
I instinctively rubbed my eyes again as if trying to clear a fog, but when I looked again, he was already walking toward me, his strides slow but sure.
He stopped in front of me, sitting casually on the couch opposite mine, one arm resting on the backrest as his dark eyes studied me carefully.
Then, with a voice smooth as silk, a faint hint of surprise curling in it, he said softly— "Zuri."
My heart skipped a beat.