While Eric was out of the house farming good deeds in the Imperator's Cross, his wife Ruby had also gone through an interesting and eventful day of her own, one that started far more quietly than his.
Sunlight had already crept halfway across the bedroom by the time Ruby slowly woke from her sleep, the sheets warm and rumpled on the side of the bed that should have still held Eric's weight and didn't. She blinked slowly, lashes heavy, her head feeling a little more clouded than usual, the way it always did on mornings that started too early or ended too late. She thought, half-formed and still drowsy, that it was probably from Eric waking her before dawn to tell her he wasn't going to work today, that he had somewhere else to be, before slipping out of the apartment without much explanation.
She lay there a moment longer, staring up at the ceiling, letting the fog in her head clear slowly instead of all at once.
It was strange for Eric to go out like that. She turned the thought over lazily, still half-tangled in sleep, and it pulled last night's memory up along with it, unbidden. Eric, sitting across from her with an expression she rarely saw on him, apologizing, admitting quietly that he'd been wanting a child, that the admission itself was what had made him so strange and distant these past few weeks.
Maybe he's gone to the library, she thought, a small, fond smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself. Reading books about babies, probably. Sitting there all serious with some parenting guide, looking completely out of place. The image was almost enough to make her laugh out loud, alone in the quiet bedroom.
She remembered the rest of it clearly too. After he'd confessed, she hadn't been angry, not really, just tired and a little hurt that he'd carried something like that alone for so long. She'd thanked him for finally telling her, scolded him lightly, told him plainly that next time he needed to just talk to her instead of bottling things up until they spilled over. And then they'd gone to sleep. Nothing else had happened. Nothing dramatic, nothing more complicated than two people finally saying what needed to be said.
And yet, lying here now with the morning light stretching slowly across the ceiling, she couldn't shake a strange, formless unease creeping in at the edges of the memory, something she couldn't name and didn't like the shape of. She frowned faintly, chasing the feeling for a moment before giving up and shaking her head instead, deciding it wasn't worth the effort of untangling this early. She pushed the blankets back and got up.
The washroom welcomed her with its familiar tiled chill against her bare feet. She undressed slowly, almost mechanically, before stepping into the shower, letting the warm water run over her shoulders and down her back, some of the tension in her body easing loose under the heat of it. Afterward, she filled the bathtub instead of draining it right away, sinking into the water and simply lying there far longer than she normally allowed herself, staring up at the ceiling, watching steam curl lazily against the tile, her mind drifting somewhere she couldn't quite follow.
Eventually she dragged herself out, dried off, and dressed in something simple and comfortable before padding into the kitchen. The apartment felt different with just her in it, quieter in a way that had nothing to do with actual sound, more like the shape of the silence itself had changed. She didn't need to cook for two today, and something about that small, practical fact settled oddly in her chest, heavier than it should have for something so mundane.
With no husband to feed, she didn't have much motivation to make anything elaborate for herself. Instead, she pulled up a handful of food videos on her tablet, propping it against the fruit bowl while she moved around the kitchen, telling herself she was simply gathering ideas, planning so Eric would come home to something good after his long day out. She told herself that was the real reason, and mostly, she even believed it.
She was, after all, a thoughtful, caring, loving wife, the kind who filled the empty hours of a lonely morning by thinking of someone else's dinner instead of her own breakfast.
It was too sad, in a quiet, ordinary way, that the man she loved so much was somewhere across the city right now, sitting on a bench, talking to some stranger, some beggar he'd probably decided needed his help more than his own breakfast table did. Ruby didn't dwell on the thought long. She cracked an egg into the pan, watching it hiss and set at the edges before folding it into a neat omelette, and toasted two slices of bread beside it, the kitchen filling with the small, familiar comfort of butter melting against warm bread. She spread it thin across both slices, laid the omelette over one, sprinkled a little black pepper across the top, and closed the sandwich with the second slice before carrying it out to the dining table.
She'd thrown on an old cream sweater over soft gray leggings before coming down, comfortable and a little oversized, the kind of outfit meant for a morning spent entirely alone with no one to dress for. Her damp hair was still loosely tied back, a few strands slipping free around her face as she settled into her usual seat and began to eat.
She chewed slowly, methodically, her gaze drifting toward the window without her really deciding to look there. Outside, the sky stretched out clear and blue, wide and welcoming in a way that felt almost mocking against how quiet the apartment was. A few birds cut lazy arcs across the open air, weaving and dipping with nothing tying them down to any one place, and she watched them for longer than she meant to.
The omelette was good; she could tell that much objectively- the seasoning right, the texture soft- but she couldn't quite taste it the way she normally would have. Each bite went down a little joylessly, chewed out of habit more than hunger, her mind clearly somewhere else entirely. Her eyes fell, without meaning to, on the corner of the counter where Eric's own breakfast sat untouched and long since gone cold, the plate he hadn't gotten around to before rushing out the door. She looked at it a moment too long before turning back to her own plate.
Breakfast didn't last. She finished the sandwich quickly despite her lack of appetite, more out of the desire to have something to do next than any real satisfaction, and stood, carrying her plate to the sink and setting it down beside Eric's cold, abandoned one. Cleaning felt like the next logical step, something to fill the empty stretch of morning ahead of her, so she pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the storeroom and got to work.
It wasn't much of a job, really. She cleaned every single day, out of habit more than necessity, so the apartment rarely had much dust to speak of, and today, with her mind clearly elsewhere, she moved through the motions without much real attention behind them. Still, an hour passed before she finally set the vacuum aside and admitted to herself that there was nothing left worth cleaning.
She felt tired in a way that had nothing to do with physical effort, and more than a little bored on top of it. She brewed herself a cup of black tea, the warmth of the mug pleasant between her palms, and settled onto the couch with the television remote, letting YouTube's endless scroll of recommendations wash over her. Her feed, unsurprisingly, was almost entirely cooking videos, the algorithm having long since caught on to her habits. Most of them focused on Parisian delicacies lately, croissants and tarts and delicate little pastries she'd been idly researching for weeks now, though a handful of videos from further afield slipped in between them too, dishes from America, from across Africa, from India, colorful and unfamiliar and usually enough to catch her attention on a normal day.
Today, though, nothing caught her eye at all. She scrolled through thumbnail after thumbnail with a strange, flat disinterest, waiting for that familiar little spark of curiosity that usually sent her straight into the kitchen to start prepping ingredients, and it simply never came.
She glanced toward the window again. The weather outside still looked lovely, warm and clear, the kind of day that seemed to be gently asking to be spent outside instead of wasted indoors scrolling through videos she wasn't even watching properly. An idea took shape in her mind, small and a little unfamiliar. Maybe she should go out. Do some shopping, just for the sake of doing something.
It wasn't really like her. Ruby had always been the type to stay curled up at home, perfectly content within four walls, rarely feeling any real pull toward the noise and bustle of the city outside. But today, for reasons she couldn't fully explain even to herself, some restless little itch sat under her skin, urging her to leave the apartment behind for a few hours.
She wasn't about to go out there completely alone, though. She reached for her phone from the coffee table and opened her chat with Zoe, the little thread of messages between them mostly filled with recipe links and grainy photos of finished dishes over the past few weeks.
Hey, are you free today? she typed, thumb hovering for a second before adding, I was thinking of heading out for some shopping. Wanna come?
She sent it before she could second-guess herself, set the phone face-up on the table, and reached for her tea again, watching the screen with a faint, hopeful sort of anticipation she hadn't expected to feel over something so small.
Next door, Zoe was elbow-deep in dirty dishes when her phone buzzed against the counter. She dried her hands on a towel and picked it up, squinting at the screen.
Hey, are you free today? I was thinking of heading out for some shopping. Wanna come?
Zoe glanced around at the mess still scattered across her kitchen, half-washed pans stacked in the sink, crumbs on the counter she hadn't gotten to yet. Fuck the apartment, she thought, puffing her cheeks out in mild irritation. It wasn't even her mess, not really; it was Max's. The man ate like a small hurricane and left an equally chaotic trail behind him everywhere he went. She was tired, tired of the dishes, tired of chasing crumbs, tired of being cooped up doing housework all week.
She typed back a quick yes before she could talk herself out of it.
Ruby's phone buzzed on the table a moment later, and a small, genuine smile spread across her face as she read the reply. She was up and moving before her tea had even finished cooling, abandoning the mug on the coffee table without a second thought.
Standing in front of her closet mirror a few minutes later, Ruby pulled dress after dress off their hangers, holding each one up against herself, turning slightly side to side, chasing some memory of a version of herself she hadn't visited in a while.
How long has it been since I actually dressed up like this?
She couldn't remember exactly, and that alone felt strange enough to sit with for a moment.
After trying on a handful of options, she finally landed on the one that felt right. A green gown that caught the color of her eyes and hair perfectly, paired with a dark brown floppy hat, a single pink flower stitched delicately to its brim, and a pair of short black heels that clicked softly against the floor as she walked. She added a touch of makeup at the mirror, just enough to feel finished without feeling like too much, and finished it off with a light spray of perfume at her wrists and throat.
She picked up her black bag, slung it over one shoulder, and stepped out of the apartment.
She looked, without exaggeration, beautiful. Still in her twenties, her body had kept every bit of its youthful shape, and the effect of the whole outfit together was enough to draw a few passing glances just from the hallway alone. Most people who saw her wouldn't have guessed in a hundred years that she was already married.
She walked the short distance to Zoe's door and knocked lightly, waiting.
About half a minute later, the door swung open. Zoe stood there in an orange, breathable maxi dress that moved loosely around her legs, matching orange heels, and a short white sunhat perched over long, wavy orange hair that fell in smooth, silky waves past her shoulders.
The two of them stood there for a moment, simply looking each other over.
"You look good!" Zoe said first, grinning.
"I can say the same about you," Ruby replied, a small laugh slipping out.
"Seriously though," Zoe said, tilting her head, eyeing the floppy hat with open approval, "where did you even find that? I need one."
Ruby touched the brim self-consciously. "I have had it for years. Just never had a reason to wear it."
"Well, today's the day, apparently." Zoe stepped out and pulled her door shut behind her, giving it a firm tug to make sure it latched. "So, shopping. What's the occasion? You rarely want to go out."
Ruby shrugged lightly, adjusting the strap of her bag. "No occasion. I just felt like it today."
Zoe raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced, but let it go for now with an easy shrug of her own. "Fine by me. I was two dirty pans away from losing my mind anyway."
They walked together toward the elevator, their heels clicking in an easy, unmatched rhythm against the hallway floor. Once inside, the doors sliding shut behind them, their conversation picked up almost immediately, filling the small space with chatter.
They talked about work, about some ridiculous thing one of them had seen on Instagram that morning, about a recipe Ruby wanted to try and a dress Zoe had been eyeing online for weeks now. None of it particularly mattered. Most of it was harmless gossip, the kind of easy back-and-forth that filled silence without needing to mean much of anything, and neither of them minded that in the slightest.
It was, Ruby thought idly at one point, a strange contrast to their husbands. Eric and Max, whenever they were actually in a room together, tended to fall into long, comfortable silences, content to simply exist near each other without filling every gap with words. She and Zoe had never quite mastered that particular skill.
If only they knew that they had deep, long conversations in their mind through their Meditation Aura.
The elevator doors opened onto the lobby, and they made their way out through the front entrance of the building together.
The moment they stepped outside, the sun hit them full force, sharp and bright, the kind of light that made both women wince and immediately reach up to adjust their hats lower over their eyes.
"Ugh," Zoe muttered, tugging uselessly at the brim of her white sunhat, which did considerably less to shield her face than she would have liked. She glanced sideways at Ruby, whose floppy brown hat cast a far more generous shadow over her eyes, and felt a small, petty stab of envy. "Okay, I take back what I said earlier. I definitely need a bigger hat."
"Told you," Ruby said lightly, not bothering to hide her smile.
It took them a minute or two to properly adjust to the brightness, blinking against it, shading their eyes with their hands until their vision settled. Once it did, they turned right and started walking; the mall was close enough that a taxi felt unnecessary.
The street around them was alive and loud, cars rolling past in a steady stream, the footpath crowded with people moving in every direction, voices overlapping into a kind of low, constant hum. A few tourists were scattered among the locals, cameras raised toward the buildings, pausing every so often to snap a photo of some architectural detail or another. A couple of them, spotting Ruby and Zoe, approached hesitantly and asked, in halting, accented French, if they could take a picture together.
Both women declined politely, waving them off with practiced ease, and kept walking.
For a while, their conversation carried on just as loudly and enthusiastically as it had in the elevator, hopping from topic to topic without much of a plan, neither of them particularly concerned with who around them might overhear. But conversations like that only had so much fuel behind them, and slowly, gradually, the topics began to run thin. Their voices dropped in volume without either of them quite noticing it happening, the enthusiasm fading into something quieter, more comfortable, until they were walking mostly in silence, side by side, footsteps falling into a loose, shared rhythm.
Ruby stared straight ahead as they walked, her steps slowing just slightly as something turned over in her mind, something she'd been carrying around all morning without quite deciding what to do with it. She glanced sideways at Zoe once, then away again, hesitating.
Should I even ask her this?
She turned the question over a few more times in her head, weighing it, before finally deciding the silence had gone on long enough. She turned her head toward Zoe.
"Hey, Zoe," she said slowly, "I have a question."
Zoe glanced over, waiting.
"Has Max been acting weird lately?"
Zoe stopped walking entirely.
Her expression shifted fast, surprise flashing across her face, eyes going wide as she turned to look at Ruby head-on, something almost startled in the way she stared at her. Ruby felt a small flicker of panic at the reaction, already halfway to regretting she'd asked at all, opening her mouth to take the question back.
But before she could say anything else, Zoe spoke first, and what came out of her mouth caught Ruby just as off guard.
"You mean… Eric has also been acting weird lately?" Zoe said, and it was Ruby's turn to freeze in place.
"Huh…"
The two of them stood there on the footpath, staring at each other, matching expressions of confusion frozen on both their faces, neither one quite sure how to process the fact that the other had clearly been sitting on the same worry.
Before either of them could say anything more, a stroller rolled past them on the footpath, wheels bumping gently over an uneven paving stone, pushed by a woman who couldn't have been much further along than seven or eight months, one hand resting lightly on top of her rounded belly as she walked.
Ruby's eyes followed her without meaning to.
A few steps further, another woman crossed in front of them at the corner, hand pressed to the small of her back the way pregnant women so often did, clearly heavily along as well, laughing at something the man beside her had said.
Zoe blinked, glancing between the two women, then turned to look at Ruby. "Okay, is it just me, or…"
Ruby's brow furrowed as she scanned the street a little more deliberately now, and the moment she actually started looking, she realized it wasn't just her imagination. A woman sitting outside a café with one hand resting protectively over an obvious bump. Another crossing at the far end of the block, walking slowly, careful with her steps. A third stepping out of a boutique with a bag of what looked suspiciously like tiny clothes.
"That's… four," Ruby said slowly, counting again just to be sure. "Four pregnant women. In like, two minutes."
"Five," Zoe corrected, nodding toward a bench across the street where another woman sat, visibly far along, fanning herself with a folded pamphlet.
They both stood there a moment longer, watching the street with a kind of bewildered fascination neither of them could quite explain.
"Is there... something in the water here?" Zoe asked, only half joking, her tone somewhere between amused and genuinely unsettled.
"I don't know," Ruby said, still staring. "I never really notice this stuff, but now that you've pointed it out, I can't stop seeing it."
"Maybe it's a Paris thing," Zoe offered, though she didn't sound convinced of it herself. "Some kind of... baby boom happening or something?"
Ruby shook her head slowly, arms crossing over her chest as a strange, prickling unease settled low in her stomach, the same unease that had been lingering at the edges of her all morning finally finding something concrete to attach itself to. "It's weird, right? I'm not just imagining it being weird."
"No, it's definitely weird," Zoe agreed, glancing once more at the woman on the bench before finally tearing her eyes away. "I've lived in this city for months, and I don't think I've ever noticed this many pregnant women on one street before. Ever."
They started walking again, slower now, both of them a little more alert to their surroundings than they had been a few minutes ago, and sure enough, the pattern didn't stop. A sixth woman passed them a block later, then a seventh near the entrance to a pharmacy, each one perfectly ordinary on her own, and yet the sheer number of them together left both women exchanging increasingly baffled looks every time another one crossed their path.
"Okay, this is officially freaking me out a little," Zoe finally admitted, lowering her voice slightly as if the street itself might be listening. "Especially with what you just asked me. About Eric. And what I was about to tell you. About Max."
Ruby's stomach tightened further, the earlier unease sharpening into something closer to real apprehension. "You don't think it's connected, do you? Whatever's going on with them, and... this?"
Zoe hesitated, glancing around one more time at the street full of soft, rounded bellies and careful, contented steps, and slowly shook her head. "I have no idea. But I don't love that it's the first thing my brain went to either."
They stood there together for a moment, unsettled, before Zoe finally exhaled and forced a small, wry smile onto her face, clearly trying to shake off the strange mood that had settled over them.
"Come on," she said, nudging Ruby lightly with her elbow. "Let's just keep walking. You still owe me the full story about Eric, and I still owe you mine about Max. We can be confused together."
Both of them had questions bubbling up now, questions neither one wanted to be the first to answer, so they hovered there for a moment in that easy, silent standoff, until Ruby finally cracked first and asked for the details.
Zoe took her time answering, chewing lightly at the inside of her cheek as she sorted back through everything she'd noticed, everything she hadn't quite let herself put into words until now.
"It mostly started when we moved to Paris," she said eventually. "At first it just felt like Moscow all over again, you know, new city, new routine, figured he'd settle in eventually. But then..." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "The first thing I noticed was that he has gotten quieter. Quieter than usual."
Ruby blinked.
Quieter?
She very nearly laughed out loud. She could hear that man thundering around his apartment at midnight some nights, could hear him laughing loudly enough through the shared wall that she sometimes wondered if he even knew walls were supposed to block sound. And then there were the other nights, the ones where the noise coming through that same wall had nothing to do with laughing at all, and—
She cut that thought off immediately, cheeks warming despite herself, and pressed her lips together to keep any of it from slipping out.
"What do you mean by quiet?" Ruby asked instead, keeping her voice carefully neutral. "I think he seems as lively as ever."
She very deliberately did not look toward the direction of Zoe's apartment as she said it. Unfortunately, Zoe seemed to be thinking the same thing at the same moment, because a faint, telltale blush crept across her cheeks too, and she coughed once into her fist before continuing, a little too quickly.
"It may look the same to you," Zoe said, waving a hand as if to physically brush the shared memory away, "but I'm his wife. I notice things you wouldn't be able to pick up on." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's hard to explain properly. Before, he'd talk endlessly about everything. He had no filter at all; you know how he is. But now, when he talks, there are these little pauses. Small breaks between his sentences that never used to be there. He doesn't bounce around the apartment as much either. He mutters less in his sleep too, which, honestly, used to drive me insane, so I actually kind of miss it now that it's gone." She let out a small, humorless laugh. "Some of his smiles feel off too. Almost fake and sometimes, when he's talking to me, I catch this flicker of something sad behind his eyes, just for a second, before it disappears again."
She turned to Ruby expectantly. "What about Eric?"
Ruby went quiet for a moment, her fingers absently toying with the strap of her bag as she thought it over properly, the way Zoe just had.
"Eric's been strange too," she said slowly. "I started around the same time, honestly, right after we moved here. But it's kind of the opposite with him. He's gotten more talkative. He smiles a lot more too, except..." She wrinkled her nose slightly. "Except the smiles feel fake. Like really fake. It actually creeps me out a little, if I'm being honest. His eyes look hollow sometimes. Like he's in pain, or confused about something he can't figure out."
She sighed, the sound small and a little heavy.
"It's a horrible feeling, you know? Being his wife and knowing he's hurting but not feeling like he can actually talk to me about it. He just... comes to me at night sometimes, lies with his head against me, cries a little, asks these strange questions out of nowhere, and then falls asleep before I can even really respond. He's been complimenting me more too, way more than usual, like he's trying extra hard to make me feel better about something. It just made everything feel weirder, honestly, not less." She paused. "But yesterday he finally told me. After I sat him down and made him talk to me properly. He..."
Ruby's fingers laced together in front of her, and she looked down at the pavement, her cheeks flushing a warm pink as a small, sheepish smile tugged at her mouth despite herself.
"H-he told me he wants to have a baby," she said, the words coming out quieter than she meant them to, almost shy.
For a second, Zoe just stared at her.
Then a slow, wicked grin spread across her face.
Zoe's whole body shook with the force of holding back her laughter, and then she gave up trying entirely, letting it burst out loud and bright across the street. "LUCKY GIRL!" She grabbed Ruby's arm and shook it. "Hahahaha, oh my god, Ruby!"
"Zoe—" Ruby hissed, glancing around at the passing pedestrians, mortified.
"No, no, this is important information!" Zoe elbowed her hard in the side, still cackling. "You know Max won't even do it without protection? He's terrified he's gonna knock me up by accident. Meanwhile your husband is over here begging on his knees for a baby—"
"He wasn't begging on his knees; he was crying into my chest at two in the morning like a lost puppy—"
"Even better!" Zoe wheezed. "Sigh. I guess this phase comes for every man eventually." She wiped a fake tear from her eye, composing herself just enough to actually look interested. "Okay, okay, focus. So what happened after he told you? Did you guys, you know—"
"ZOE."
"What? It's a normal question!"
"It is NOT a normal question to ask in the middle of the street!" Ruby's face had gone fully red now, all the way to her ears, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she glared at absolutely nothing in particular, too embarrassed to look Zoe in the eye. "We didn't— I just— I scolded him! Okay? I scolded him and screamed at him for hiding something so stupid from me in the first place. I was so mad. Do you know how worried I was? I thought something was actually wrong with him, and it turns out he just didn't want to tell me he wanted a baby, like that's some big terrible secret—"
"Aww." Zoe's teasing grin softened just slightly, genuine warmth slipping in underneath it.
"Don't 'aww' me," Ruby muttered, though the heat in her voice had already started fading. She sighed, some of the tension draining out of her shoulders. "Honestly, though, he had hinted at it before. A few times, actually. I just didn't put it together. So I guess it's a little bit my fault too."
Zoe hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head. "Was he being all weird and cryptic about it, or was it actually a hint you should've caught?"
"...A little of both," Ruby admitted, and Zoe snorted.
"So it's fifty percent your fault. I'll allow it." Zoe grinned again, nudging her once more, gentler this time. "Okay, is that everything? Anything else weird?"
Ruby shook her head slowly, thinking it over one more time just to be sure, then glanced sideways. "What about you? Anything else with Max?"
Zoe opened her mouth to say no, already halfway through the motion of shaking her head, when something snagged in her memory, and she stopped short.
"Oh, wait, actually—" She raised a finger, brow furrowing slightly. "Every couple of days, he's been locking himself in the bathroom for a while. I didn't think much of it at first- whatever, everyone needs their alone time sometimes, but now that I'm actually thinking about it... he never used to do that. Not in years."
"That is weird," Ruby said, eyebrows lifting.
"Right?" Zoe frowned, chewing her lip for a second before shrugging it off. "Maybe he's just constipated. Who knows."
"Zoe!"
"What! It's possible!"
They kept trading theories back and forth as they walked the last stretch toward the mall, Ruby occasionally jabbing back with her own commentary, pointing out that at least Eric didn't lock himself away from her, to which Zoe immediately countered that at least Max wasn't crying into her chest at two in the morning, and the two of them went back and forth like that, half bickering, half laughing, until neither of them could quite remember who'd technically won the argument.
By the time the wide glass entrance of Vigias Mall came into view ahead of them, they'd more or less exhausted the topic, still no closer to any real answers, but feeling lighter for having talked it through together.
They stepped through the sliding doors, and the mall's air conditioning hit them almost instantly, cold and crisp against skin still damp from the walk over. Both women shivered at once, a small, involuntary jolt running through them as the sweat clinging to their skin evaporated in the sudden chill, and for a moment they just stood there in the entryway, breathing it in, grateful for the relief of it.
They were ready to head up to the first floor and start trying on clothes. Max and Eric had spoiled them rotten, handing over their credit cards without a single word of protest, never once stopping them from buying whatever caught their eye. They'd both hesitated over that kind of spending before, guilt creeping in every time the total on a receipt climbed too high, but today, for whatever reason, they'd silently agreed between themselves to be completely shameless about it.
Just as they turned to walk toward the escalators, a calm, unfamiliar voice drifted over from somewhere behind them.
"Ah... finally some relief. What should I eat today?"
Ruby and Zoe both stopped and turned around at the same time.
Standing a few feet away was a woman with long, flowing green hair that matched her eyes almost perfectly, her arms stretched out at her sides as if she'd just finished a long, satisfying stretch after stepping in from the heat outside. She wore a simple green dress that suited her effortlessly, and though she looked to be somewhere in her twenties, there was something in the easy, unbothered way she carried herself that made her a little hard to place.
She noticed the two of them looking at her almost immediately and turned her head, meeting their gazes with open curiosity rather than any embarrassment. For a moment, the three of them simply stood there, sizing each other up in that quiet, instinctive way strangers sometimes did.
Then the green-haired woman's stomach let out a long, unmistakable growl.
Her face went red in an instant, one hand flying up to press against her stomach as if that might somehow retroactively silence it. "That was not me," she said, with the kind of flat, hopeful denial that convinced absolutely no one.
Ruby and Zoe both burst out laughing at the same time.
"Sure it wasn't," Zoe said, grinning as she walked closer, Ruby trailing just a step behind her, still giggling.
The woman huffed, cheeks still faintly pink, though a small, sheepish smile had already started tugging at her own mouth. "Fine. It was me. I skipped breakfast. And lunch, if I'm being honest."
"You skipped lunch too? Girl, no," Zoe said, shaking her head with mock disapproval, hand on her hip. "That's a crime in this heat."
"I was low on money," the woman said simply, though something in her tone suggested she wasn't going to elaborate further, and neither Ruby nor Zoe pushed her on it.
"I'm Zoe," Zoe said instead, sticking her hand out. "And this is Ruby. We're heading up to shop for a bit, but honestly, food sounds like a much better first move now that you mention it."
"Kalamine," the woman said, shaking Zoe's hand, then Ruby's, her grip surprisingly firm. "It's nice to meet you both."
Ruby offered her a small, warm smile. "That's a really pretty name."
"Thank you." Kalamine's eyes flicked briefly toward the food court signs visible from where they stood, and her stomach let out another quiet, traitorous growl, softer this time but no less noticeable. She winced.
Zoe burst out laughing again, unable to help herself, and even Kalamine cracked a helpless laugh of her own this time, clearly resigned to the betrayal of her own body.
"Okay, that settles it," Zoe said, still grinning as she looped one arm loosely through the air in Kalamine's general direction, not quite touching but clearly inviting. "You're eating with us. No arguing."
"I wasn't planning on arguing," Kalamine said, a genuine smile breaking through now, easy and a little relieved. "I don't really know anyone in this city yet, honestly."
"Well, now you know us," Ruby offered warmly. "Come shopping with us after, too, if you want. We've got the whole day free."
Kalamine glanced between the two of them for a moment, something unreadable flickering briefly behind her green eyes before it settled into something softer, warmer.
"I'd like that," she said. "Thank you."
And just like that, without either of them quite planning it, Ruby and Zoe had made a new friend.