3RD PERSON'S POV
Orange sat at her cluttered desk, textbooks and notes spread out before her. The soft hum of her laptop filled the room, a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped her room. She glanced at the calendar pinned to the wall, noting the upcoming enrollment for the second semester. Being a fourth-year college student was no easy feat, especially when balancing it with her commitments to D Minor.
Her phone buzzed with another notification, but this time, she ignored it. The viral video from the Summer Music Fest had done wonders for her confidence, but right now, she needed to focus on her studies. She scribbled down a few more notes, her mind drifting between the academic material and the melodies that constantly played in her head.
Just as she was about to dive back into her reading, a faint knock echoed through the door outside of her home. She frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late—too late for visitors. She stood up, her heart pounding slightly as she walked to the door.
When she opened it, her breath caught in her throat. Rodora stood there, leaning heavily against the doorframe. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes, though slightly unfocused, still held that piercing intensity that Orange remembered all too well. She wore a tight, black dress that clung to her curves, accentuating her toned body. Despite the disheveled state she was in, Rodora looked undeniably sexy.
"Rodora?" Orange's voice was a mix of surprise and concern. "What are you doing here?"
Rodora's lips curled into a lazy smile, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and something else—something darker. "I needed to see you," she slurred, taking a step forward and nearly stumbling.
Orange reached out instinctively, catching her before she could fall. The scent of alcohol was strong, and it was clear that Rodora was drunk. "You're wasted," Orange said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You shouldn't be here."
Rodora's hands found their way to Orange's shoulders, her touch sending an unwelcome shiver down Orange's spine. "I miss you," she whispered, her breath warm against Orange's ear. "I miss us."
Orange's heart ached at the words, but she knew better than to let herself be drawn back into Rodora's web. "You're drunk," she repeated, more firmly this time. "You need to sleep this off."
Rodora's eyes darkened, and for a moment, Orange thought she might argue. But then, she seemed to deflate, her shoulders slumping as she leaned heavily against Orange. "Fine," she muttered. "But I'm not leaving."
With a sigh, Orange wrapped an arm around Rodora's waist, guiding her into the home. She led her to the bedroom, her mind racing with a mix of emotions—anger, sadness, and a lingering sense of longing that she hated herself for feeling.
"Here," Orange said softly, helping Rodora onto the bed. "You can sleep here."
Rodora looked up at her, her eyes glassy but still holding that familiar intensity. "Will you stay with me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Orange shook her head, her resolve hardening. "No, Rodora. You need to rest. We'll talk in the morning."
Rodora's expression was a mix of disappointment and something else—something that looked almost like regret. But she didn't argue. She simply lay back on the bed, her eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion overtook her.
Orange stood there for a moment, watching her. The memories of their past were still fresh, and seeing Rodora like this—vulnerable and lost—stirred something deep within her. But she knew that she couldn't let herself be drawn back into that world. She had worked too hard to build a life for herself, and she wasn't about to let it be derailed.
With a heavy heart, she turned and left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. She returned to her desk, but the textbooks and notes seemed distant now, overshadowed by the presence of the woman sleeping in her bed.
As she sat back down, her mind raced with thoughts of what the morning would bring. Rodora was a part of her past, a shadow that she couldn't quite shake. But Orange was determined to face whatever came her way, to stay true to herself and her music.
The night stretched on, and as the first light of dawn began to filter through the blinds, Orange took a deep breath. She was ready for whatever the new day would bring, even if it meant confronting the ghosts of her past.
*****
The morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, casting a gentle glow over the bedroom. Rodora slowly awoke, her head pounding and her mouth dry. She groaned softly, her eyes blinking against the brightness. As she shifted, she realized she was no longer in her dress but instead wore a pair of comfortable pajamas and a big T-shirt.
Rodora sat up slowly, her mind struggling to piece together the events of the previous night. She looked around the unfamiliar room, recognizing it as Orange's... room. She can still remember it well. The realization hit her like a wave, and she felt a mix of embarrassment and gratitude.
The scent of coffee and something delicious wafted from the kitchen. Rodora swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, feeling a bit unsteady. She padded softly out of the bedroom, following the enticing aromas.
In the kitchen, Orange was busy at the stove, her back to the doorway. The sight of her former lover made Rodora's heart ache. She watched as Orange moved with practiced ease, flipping pancakes and preparing a plate of scrambled eggs.
Orange turned around, startled to see Rodora standing there. For a moment, their eyes met, and a tense silence hung in the air.
"Morning," Orange said finally, her voice neutral.
Rodora nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. "Morning."
Without another word, Orange placed a plate of pancakes and eggs on the table, along with a steaming mug of coffee. She gestured for Rodora to sit, then turned back to the stove to finish cooking.
Rodora sat down, the awkward silence enveloping them both. She picked up her fork and took a bite of the pancakes, savoring the comforting taste. Despite the tension, the food was delicious, and she couldn't help but appreciate the effort Orange had made.
As she ate, Rodora's eyes kept drifting to Orange. She wanted to say something, to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come. Orange's expression was hard, her demeanor cautious and wary. It was clear that the walls between them were firmly in place.
When Rodora finished her meal, she set her fork down and looked up at Orange, who was now cleaning the kitchen. "Thank you," she said softly. "For everything."
Orange nodded, not looking up from her task. "You needed help. I couldn't just leave you out there."
Rodora felt a pang of guilt, knowing how much she had hurt Orange in the past. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Orange paused, her hands stilling. She took a deep breath and turned to face Rodora, her eyes hard. "We have a lot to talk about, but not now. You should rest. We can deal with everything later."
Rodora nodded, knowing that pushing for more would only make things worse. She stood up and walked to the bedroom, feeling the weight of Orange's gaze on her back. As she lay back down on the bed, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope amidst the guilt and regret. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to make things right.
****