Page 18 of The Stuffing Situation

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

Felix’s voice was low, careful. “Of me?”

“No,” she said, and that was probably the most terrifying part, because she should be, but in reality, the fear wassomething more profound. “I’m scared of how much I already don’t want to lose you.”

He didn’t answer; he just leaned his shoulder against hers, warm, steady, feeling tooalive.

And for a second, she could’ve sworn she felt a faint heartbeat where their arms touched. Slow. Syncing with hers.

They sat like that for a long time.

No algorithm, or banter. Just two people trying to pretend the morning wouldn’t come.

Then her phone buzzed. Maya stared at the screen from the couch, not moving to grab it. The preview line from her work group chat flashed across the top:

Black Friday schedule, confirm if you’re still on.

Then a rent reminder loaded on her phone.

3 days until due; autopay is active.

And then, just to twist the knife, a text from a friend she hadn’t spoken to over the holiday:

Hey, you okay? You kind of vanished.

Maya turned her phone over without answering.

She could feel the real world closing in, with the frost at the edges of a window. This couldn’t last; it wasn’t supposed to. But as she looked down the hallway. While Felix was now making tea exactly how she liked it, humming softly, perfectly out of tune, she felt something tighten in her chest. No one had ever put this much effort into knowing her. She was filled with a mix of hope and regret.

And then, she made a small choice.

Maya picked the phone back up, flicked it into Do Not Disturb, and whispered to the empty room:

“Just one more night.”

9

Hard Reset

She woke up tangled in limbs and heat, her heartbeat slow, her lungs full of him.

Felix’s arm draped across her waist, warm and solid, his breath ghosting steadily against her neck, each exhale syncing with her pulse like he was programmed to keep her grounded.

And maybe he was.

That was the problem.

She lay still for a long moment, listening to the silence of the house—too quiet, too still. No holiday chaos, no gravy wars, no kids demanding screen time. Just morning light, soft through the blinds, and the illusion of peace.

Felix shifted behind her and nuzzled slightly closer. The sound that left him wasn’t mechanical; it was a sigh, unsteady and human, and it was too perfect.

His body molded to hers like a second skin. His touch wasn’t needy; it was intentional. Protective. Familiar in a way that only time was supposed to earn.

And he hadn’t earned it.

Because she’d made him.

Carefully, Maya slipped out of his hold, sitting up and swinging her feet to the floor. She moved quietly, not because she had to, but because it felt like sneaking out of a dream she’d accidentally made real.