Sunlight slipped through the thin curtains of Rose's room in soft, golden ribbons, warming the quilt and the bare skin of Jade's arm where it had slipped free during the night.
She woke slowly, aware first of the unfamiliar ceiling above her, then of the gentle weight of the blanket, then of Rose beside her—still asleep, turned on her side, one hand curled near her cheek, breathing even and quiet.
Jade stayed very still for a moment, not wanting to disturb the peace of it.
Their knees were still touching under the covers; sometime in the night the small distance they had carefully kept had closed without either of them noticing.
The room smelled faintly of lavender from the small sachet Rose kept in her drawer and the lingering sweetness of last night's cookies.
Rose stirred first.
Her eyes fluttered open, found Jade's, and for a heartbeat neither moved.
Then Rose smiled—sleep-soft, a little shy—and whispered,
"Morning."
"Morning,Rose" Jade whispered back.
Rose stretched slowly, arms above her head, then sat up.
The quilt pooled around her waist.
"You sleep okay?"
Jade nodded.
"Better than okay.
Your bed's comfortable."
Rose laughed under her breath.
"Ethan says it's lumpy.
He's wrong."
They lingered in the quiet for another minute, the apartment still hushed except for the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen—Elena already awake and moving.
Rose slipped out of bed first, pulling on a cardigan over her sleep shirt.
"I'll make breakfast.
You don't have to leave until noon, right?"
Jade sat up too, hugging her knees.
"Noon's fine.
But you don't have to cook—"
"I want to," Rose said simply.
"Come on."
They padded into the kitchen together, barefoot on the cool floor.
Elena was already at the stove, humming softly as she scrambled eggs.
She turned when they entered and smiled—warm, knowing.
"Good morning, you two.
Sleep well?"
Rose's cheeks pinked faintly.
"Very well."
Jade felt her own face warm.
"Good morning Mrs Archer,
Thank you again for letting me stay."
Elena waved the spatula.
"Anytime.
Rose doesn't invite people over often.
It's nice to see the house full of laughter."
Rose busied herself at the counter, pulling out bread, butter, jam, a carton of orange juice.
Jade helped without being asked—setting plates, folding napkins, pouring juice into glasses.
They moved around each other easily, shoulders brushing in the narrow space, small smiles exchanged every time their eyes met.
When the eggs were ready, Rose insisted on making toast with cinnamon sugar—"the way we always do on weekends"—and Jade stood beside her at the toaster, watching the slices turn golden.
Ethan stumbled in last, hair wild, hoodie half-zipped, and immediately stole a piece of toast before anyone could stop him.
They sat around the small kitchen table—four mismatched chairs squeezed close.
The food was simple but warm: fluffy scrambled eggs, cinnamon toast, fresh orange juice, a few leftover cookies from last night.
Conversation flowed without effort.
Elena asked Jade about her parents, her music, her favorite books.
Jade answered honestly, laughing when Ethan teased Rose about how she always burned the toast when she was distracted.
At one point Rose reached for the jam at the same time Jade did.
Their fingers brushed—lingered a second longer than necessary—then both pulled back with small, awkward laughs.
"Sorry," Jade said.
"No, I—" Rose started, then smiled.
"Jam's all yours."
Elena watched them with quiet amusement but said nothing, only sipped her coffee and passed the butter.
After breakfast they cleared the table together, plates clinking, laughter rising again when Ethan dropped a spoon and it spun across the floor like a tiny propeller.
Rose caught it mid-slide and held it up triumphantly.
"Saved it"
Jade laughed so hard her sides ached.
"You're quick."
"Years of practice," Rose said, eyes bright.
When the kitchen was tidy, Rose turned to Jade.
"Come outside for a minute?
I want to show you something before you go."
Jade followed her through the living room and out the front door.
Just beyond the entrance of the apartment building was a small, tended patch of garden—nothing grand, just a narrow strip of soil lined with pots and a low wooden bench.
Rose knelt beside the plants, fingers brushing leaves.
"These are mine," she said softly.
"Lavender, mint, a couple of succulents.
They don't need much—just sun and water."
Jade crouched beside her.
"They look happy."
Rose smiled.
"They are."
She pointed to a small clay dish near the largest pot.
"And this is for the sparrow.
He comes every morning at same time ,
waits on the railing until I put seeds out."
As if summoned, a small brown sparrow landed on the bench arm, head tilted, watching them with bright black eyes.
Rose reached into her pocket, pulled out a handful of seeds, and scattered them gently into the dish.
The bird hopped closer, unafraid, pecking at the offering with quick, precise movements.
Rose watched him, completely absorbed—her face soft, eyes following every flutter of wings, every tilt of his head.
She murmured something under her breath—too quiet for Jade to catch—almost like a greeting.
Jade stayed silent, crouched beside her, watching Rose more than the bird.
The way Rose's shoulders relaxed, the gentle curve of her mouth, the way sunlight caught in her hair and turned it warm.
Something tender and bright bloomed in Jade's chest—slow, steady, impossible to ignore.
Rose glanced over.
"He's been coming since we moved in.
I think he likes the quiet."
Jade smiled without thinking.
"I like it too."
The sparrow finished, hopped once, then flew off in a small arc of brown feathers.
Rose stood, brushing soil from her palms.
She looked at Jade—really looked—and for a moment neither spoke.
"Thanks for coming," Rose said quietly.
"For staying."
Jade met her eyes.
"Thanks for asking me."
They walked back inside together, footsteps soft on the hallway floor.
Ethan was sprawled on the couch with his phone; Elena was washing the last of the dishes.
The apartment felt full—not crowded, just… lived-in, warm.
When it was time for Jade to leave, Rose walked her to the door.
They stood on the threshold for a second—bag in Jade's hand, the morning light behind her.
"Text me when you get home?" Rose asked.
Jade nodded.
"I will for sure"
Rose hesitated, then stepped forward and gave her a quick, light hug—arms brief but sure.
"See you Monday."
Jade hugged back, feeling the warmth of Rose's sweater against her cheek.
"Monday."
She stepped out, the door closing softly behind her..
The hallway was quiet.
She walked down the stairs slowly, the memory of the morning settling deep inside her—laughter around the table, Rose kneeling in the garden, the sparrow's small, trusting hops.
The good feeling in her heart had grown again—quietly, surely, like roots finding soil after rain.
She smiled to herself as she stepped into the sunlight, already looking forward to Monday.