Do Not Disturb

"See you later," she said just before the door clicked shut with a soft, final sound.

The words still hung in the air, warm and bright, as Michelle stood in the middle of the living room and stared at the place where Roy had been. Silence settled over the apartment. Morning light spilled across the hardwood floor. The hum of traffic drifted faintly through the windows.

A strange ripple moved over her arms, raising goosebumps from wrist to shoulder. For half a second the room felt off-kilter, like stepping off an escalator that wasn’t there. A dizzy flicker. A skipped beat.

Then it was gone.

Probably just nerves.

A grin spread across her face. She was naked! Completely, gloriously naked!

"I can't believe I just did that," she whispered to the empty room, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks.

The whole idea had come to her in a rush. Something fun. Something bold. Something to give him before work. A memory to carry through the day. The only thing she'd been able to think of in the moment was stepping out in her birthday suit and pretending it was effortless.

Effortless it had not been.

Every instinct had screamed to grab a pillow, a blanket, anything. Modesty wasn't something that came easily undone. Growing up under her mother's strict rules, under her father's expectations, had carved that deep.

But she'd done it anyway. And she had seen his eyes. The way they'd widened. The way they'd travelled. Heat bloomed low in her groin at the memory.

Michelle's boyfriend had liked it.

And she loved that he'd liked it.

Air brushed across her bare skin again and reality returned all at once. The show was over. Roy was gone. Suddenly the openness of the apartment felt enormous.

"Oh my God."

Arms crossed over her chest, Michelle darted down the hallway toward the bedroom, feet whispering over the floor. Each window felt like a live camera. Each shadow like an audience. The bedroom door closed behind her with a thud of relief.

Clothes went on quickly: soft jeans, a tank top, socks. Getting dressed felt like putting on armour. By the time she tugged her hair into place and checked her reflection, composure had mostly returned.

Still, a laugh bubbled up.

She'd done that. She'd actually done that.

Being Roy's girlfriend was not for the faint of heart, but that wasn't scaring her off. Whatever it took, she was committed to being Roy's girlfriend!

No.

To being one of Roy's girlfriends.

A delighted little thrill followed the correction. Elaine was wonderful. So kind. So supportive. Sharing Roy didn't feel threatening; it felt expansive. Abundant. Like being part of something modern and generous and full of trust.

Agnes would probably be lovely too. Roy had mentioned her before, hadn't he? Or maybe he hadn't. Regardless, any woman dating Roy had to be nice. It was practically a rule. He attracted good people.

Maybe he'd introduce them properly soon. Now that she'd moved in with him.

Moved in.

The words shimmered.

Phone in hand, Michelle did the dirty work of calling in sick. First Walmart. She layered on a congested tone, apologetic and sniffly. The second job, McDonald's, received a similar performance. Both managers expressed disappointment. Shifts would need covering. Guilt pricked. She almost changed her mind.

Almost.

But the relief she felt in having the freedom to miss a day of work was much bigger than she had expected. Living with her mother, she'd been pushed to excel, pushed to work hard. Pushed. And while Michelle believed in hard work, sometimes she felt that her mother was pushing too hard, that it was okay to rest. Today, living with Roy, she was going to finally feel what that was like.

Money would be tighter. That was certainly true. Losing two shifts from of her paycheques would be hard. But she was with Roy, and if push came to shove, she was sure he would help. Not that she'd need it. She had money saved, squirrelled away with the intent to go to university. School could wait for a little while longer. Living couldn't.

Moving in had been the best decision she'd ever made.

Ever since her father died, her mother's house had been rules and sharp glances and constant correction. Too loud. Too late. Too short. Too bold. Too everything. Only now, standing in a sunlit apartment that already felt like hers, did Michelle realize how heavy that atmosphere had been.

This felt different.

Lighter.

A new world.

The phone buzzed.

MOM: Where the hell are you, girl? Call me. I am not impressed.

The warmth drained from her chest. Thumb hovered over the screen. Jaw tightened.

No.

Not today.

The message thread was silenced and her mother set to Do Not Disturb with a decisive tap. Drama would not be invited into this beautiful new space. Not after yesterday. Not after the humiliation she'd heaped on Michelle in front of her coworkers. Michelle's mother had lost her privileges.

A second buzz followed minutes later.

ELAINE: Hope you're okay this morning. Did Roy treat you right? Did he give you what you needed?

A giggle escaped before she could stop it.

MICHELLE: OMG YES!!!!
MICHELLE: He absolutely did. I'm still smiling like an idiot.
MICHELLE: Thank U for making him promise.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

ELAINE: Details. I require details.

Heat returned to Michelle's cheeks. Fingers flew across the screen, playful and dramatic and exaggerated. Not graphic, but enthusiastic. Roy had been attentive. Roy had been sweet. Roy had looked at her like she was something precious. And Roy had certainly treated her like a woman. Over and over again.

Elaine's responses came back with laughing emojis and affectionate teasing. The exchange felt easy. Sisterly, almost.

After a few minutes the conversation wound down naturally. Elaine had to get to work. Michelle set her phone on the counter and leaned back against it, staring around the apartment.

Silence again.

The future felt wide open.

Maybe she could explore her new home. Or clean. Yes, cleaning would be good. Thoughtful. Loving. Roy would come home to a place that felt cared for.

Her arm hairs lifted again. A sharp, static prickle. The room tilted; just slightly. A blink-and-you-miss-it disorientation, like forgetting what she'd walked into a room to do.

Then it passed.

She shook it off immediately and moved toward the kitchen, opening cupboards to inspect what he had. Spices. Pasta. Rice. Lentils. A small thrill at the idea of cooking something special.

Lentils were pretty standard in Middle Eastern food. She wondered for a second if Zara was Middle Eastern, or if her parents were just hippies.

Maybe Roy could invite all his girlfriends over one night. Elaine. Zara. Herself. A casual dinner. Nothing dramatic. Just an evening of warmth and laughter and comparison of notes. Dinner with Elaine had gone wonderfully. Zara, Michelle suspected, would probably fit right in.

Michelle could cook. Something hearty. Something impressive but not showy. A meal that said she belonged here, that she was the woman of the... well... apartment. She could use the lentils! Maybe that would make Zara feel comfortable. Or maybe Michelle was reading too much into her name.

The image formed easily: the four of them around the table. Roy at the head, smiling. The mysterious Zara sitting to one side of him. Elaine in a fabulous dress. And herself, sitting across from Roy, staring into his eyes, lost in his love.

It would work. Not because she was trying to interfere or insert herself where she wasn't invited, but because she wanted to live with an open heart and open arms. If he was willing, Michelle wanted to welcome Zara as a friend.

With renewed purpose, Michelle walked out of the bedroom, into the kitchen, and grabbed a cloth. Counters would sparkle. Floors would shine. Maybe she'd reorganize the shelves. Maybe she'd add candles. Something subtle.

Something welcoming.

By the time he came home, everything would be perfect, and he would see how good of a decision he made in letting her move in.