Mixed Signals

Evan stood in the doorway, completely still.

For several long seconds his brain refused to catch up with what his eyes were seeing.

The evening light glowed softly through the dining room windows, turning the polished surface of the table into a warm pool of amber and gold. The candle in the centre flickered gently, its flame swaying in the faint currents of air drifting through the quiet house. Two plates waited neatly beside one another. A bottle of wine stood uncorked nearby, its dark glass catching the light.

The meal looked incredible. Steam rose faintly from bowls arranged carefully between the plates. The rich smell of garlic and butter lingered in the air, mingling with the savoury warmth of cooked chicken and herbs. Whoever had prepared the food had done it with care, the kind of attention someone put into a dinner meant to be shared.

And Stacy stood beside the table like the host of the whole thing, as though she had set up a perfect romantic meal for two.

Confusion knotted tightly in Evan's chest. For a woman who had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with this magically enforced marriage, the scene in front of him sent a very different message. Candlelight. Wine. Mixed signals didn't begin to cover it.

Then she spoke.

"Fuck."

The word came out flat and hollow, like the air had suddenly gone out of her lungs. Understanding crept slowly into Evan's mind. Just like the text messages earlier. Just like waking up tangled together in the mornings.

The potion's magic.

"Crap," he said quietly. "The magic?"

By the table, Stacy didn't answer right away. Her shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath before she finally gave a small, stiff nod. Tension showed clearly in the lines of her face. The hard set of her jaw couldn't quite hide the shine of moisture gathering at the edges of her eyes.

"Damn," Evan muttered.

Silence stretched between them. The candle flickered softly. The food continued to smell incredible. Several seconds passed before Evan moved again. One slow step carried him closer to the table, then another. Magic or not, the meal sitting there looked far too good to ignore.

"Want to sit and talk about it?" he asked.

A long breath escaped Stacy's chest. Something shifted in her expression then, the fragile uncertainty vanishing behind a wall of stubborn determination. Without saying a word she stepped forward, reached for the wine bottle, wrapped a hand around its neck, and turned on her heel. The storm of her exit moved quickly through the house. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. A moment later the sharp slam of the master bedroom door rattled faintly through the walls.

Silence returned.

Evan stood alone beside the candlelit table. A sigh slipped out before he could stop it.

Yeah.

That reaction made sense.

Truth be told, Evan wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation either. Being magically **** into a marriage with the woman who had spent the past few years driving him crazy wasn't high on anyone's list of ideal life outcomes.

Still, part of him had hoped they might actually talk. Tomorrow night loomed uncomfortably large in his thoughts. Professor Caldwell. A house full of classmates. Expectations already forming around a version of his life that didn't actually exist. Trying to explain all of that right now, though, would probably have been like tossing a lit match into a fireworks factory.

Maybe later.

Maybe once she cooled off.

For now, dinner waited.

Evan pulled out a chair and sat down across from the empty place setting. The candle flickered between the plates while he filled the remaining dish for himself. The first bite surprised him.

"Wow," he murmured quietly.

The food really was incredible.

Stacy had cooked plenty of meals back when she had still been married to his dad. Family dinners had always been part of the routine. But nothing from those evenings had ever tasted quite like this. The chicken was tender, the seasoning balanced perfectly with the vegetables and rice. Every bite carried a warm richness that made it impossible not to keep eating.

Credit where it was due.

The magic, apparently, could cook.

Still, the experience felt strange. Meals alone weren't unusual. Evan had eaten plenty of them over the years, especially during late nights studying or when the house schedule didn't line up. Tonight felt different, though. The chair across from him sat empty.

His dad wasn't there, but that was fine.

Stacy wasn't there with him. Something about that absence made the room feel larger than it should have been. It was a strange feeling, a slight gnawing in his stomach, like eating without her was somehow wrong. Not morally wrong, but wrong like realizing that your fly was down, or that you forgot to hand in an assignment.

Fork scraping lightly against the plate, Evan tried to focus on the food, but the good feeling from the meal slipped through his fingers like water. Enjoyment faded almost as quickly as it appeared.

A buzz vibrated against the tabletop. His phone. The screen lit up with a message from Dad. Curiosity nudged him into opening it.

DAD: Staying at a buddy's tonight. You two lovebirds have fun. Enjoy your time alone.

Another message followed immediately after.

DAD: Just please not in my bed.

Evan's eyes widened.

"Oh come on," he muttered under his breath.

The implication hanging off those words was painfully obvious. Whatever version of reality the rest of the world believed in now, his father clearly thought the newly married couple would be making enthusiastic use of the empty house.

Not happening.

Absolutely not happening.

No magical rewrite of the universe was going to suddenly make Evan fall head over heels for the woman who had spent the last several years turning family life into a constant battlefield.

Dinner finished quickly after that. Plates were cleared. The candle snuffed out with a short breath. Warm water filled the sink as Evan rolled up his sleeves and began washing dishes. Alone. The quiet returned again while the sponge moved slowly across the plates. Halfway through the stack, an unexpected thought crept into his mind.

The potion had already changed so much. Lives rewritten. Relationships rearranged. Reality itself bending to match a story neither of them had chosen. Could it go further than that? Would it? How far could it change things?

Could it change him? Would he even notice?

The idea felt deeply unsettling.

Whatever the answer, one fact remained painfully clear: neither of them could undo what had already happened. Madame Ruth was gone from Evan's reach now. Thanks to Stacy's temper, even the possibility of returning to that strange shop for advice had vanished. The magic had locked them together. Good luck. End of story.

With the last dish drying quietly on the rack, Evan wandered into the living room and dropped onto the couch. The television flickered to life a moment later as he began flipping through channels. One show after another passed by. Nothing stuck. Eventually something familiar appeared on the screen, a series he normally loved. Tonight it barely held his attention.

Minutes crawled past.

Slowly, an uncomfortable sensation settled in his chest. The spark of enjoyment he had expected to feel during a quiet evening simply wasn't there. Everything seemed dull around the edges, like colour draining out of the world one shade at a time. Stacy's face kept appearing in his imagination, accompanied by a sense of absence, of loss. The absence of her beside him felt almost physical.

Without Stacy in the room, everything felt strangely hollow.

A heavy sigh escaped him as the remote rested loosely in his hand. Upstairs, somewhere beyond the ceiling, Stacy remained shut away behind the master bedroom door. Evan hoped she was faring better than he was, but the image of her walking away carrying the wine bottle was crisp in his memory. She was rightfully upset, the potion's magic hijacking her actions the way it had. It must have felt like a great violation.

He turned the television off and placed the remote lightly on the coffee table, then stood up to return to the kitchen. The food had, after all, been delicious. It would be a shame if she didn't get any.

He just wondered, as he placed a plate loaded up in the microwave, if she would even open the door for him.