Extraordinary Minds Awash E3

Reyna manages a brittle laugh, folding the shirt with exaggerated care. “It’s just static cling,” she says while refusing to meet his eyes.

“Last night was fantastic. Are we going to stick to static cling?”

Reyna forces a small laugh, clinging to the fantasy like a lifeline. “Yeah,” she answers, her voice faint but resolute. “Last night I was proud of how moist the chicken came out.”

“I’m talking about what followed,” Evan says, his tone light but with an edge of curiosity.

“Oh, you mean the wine?” Reyna deflects, as she folds a towel with too much precision. “Perhaps it was nice too.”

Evan watches her for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re a great kisser,” he says finally, his voice warm but measured.

Reyna freezes for just a second before forcing a laugh, the sound brittle. “But as a married woman… I shouldn’t admit that. Alan can become… unpredictable. Let’s end this conversation here.” She tries to keep her tone casual, but it wavers slightly.

With concern over her safety, Evan says, “I hope he’s not violent with you.”

She tries to avoid gossip since she has faults. “No. He’s not physically… abusive.”

Evan leans against the folding table, not moving closer but not backing off entirely. “By now, I think I know you, Reyna,” he says, his voice steady but quiet. “You’ve been searching for something. I see it in the way you look at me.” He pauses, his words deliberate. “Haven’t you noticed it… right in front of you?”

“Are you drinking wine with your pregnancy now?”

“No, Alan. My glass has grape juice.”

“Ah. Very deceptive.”

His words hang there, heavy and undeniable. Reyna opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes. She coughs, the sound harsh in the quiet room.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Reyna stares hard at the pile of laundry, as though hoping it might offer an escape.

Evan exhales softly, almost a sigh. “Don’t you?” His voice is gentle now, the intensity from earlier slipping away. “I know about your pregnancy,” he adds after a beat. “And it doesn’t change the way I feel. I want a family… with you.”

Reyna’s breath catches, and her stomach knots at the weight of his words. His tone is tender and sincere, but it feels overwhelming—too much, too fast. She shakes her head quickly, her movements jerky as she gathers the rest of the clothes into her basket.

“I need to get back upstairs,” she says, her voice unsteady.

She doesn’t look at him as she hoists the basket onto her hip and walks briskly toward the door. But as she pushes it open, his voice follows her, soft and wistful, lingering in the empty space behind her.

As she folds the last of the laundry later that evening, Evan’s words circle her mind, refusing to settle. “You’ve been searching for something…” His steady, sure voice lingers longer than it should. She tells herself it’s just the memory of his tone, not the truth of his words, that makes her chest tighten.

She pushes the thought aside, but as the days pass, her denials grow quieter. The sock she slipped back into his basket remains on her mind, a silent reminder of the line she insists she hasn’t crossed.

Her fingers hesitate above the screen when she finally reaches for her phone. She types and deletes three times before pressing send. The invitation is simple, almost formal: “Dinner at 6?”

A Surprise Dinner Serving

Reyna adjusts the napkins at the dining table, her hands trembling slightly. The glow of the candles dances across the room, casting shadows that stretch toward the door. She checks herself in the hallway mirror. The soft curls in her hair flatten, but it’s an improvement over her housewife appearance. The faint shimmer on her lips elevates her to someone worthy of a second glance. Her chosen blouse clings just enough to suggest effort but not desperation.

She rehearses her lines in her head: “Thank you for understanding my frustrations. I’m so glad we can talk like this.”

The knock at the door is softer than she expects, but it sends her heart racing all the same. She smooths the fabric of her blouse, runs a hand through her hair, and moves toward the door.

Reyna’s voice is steady but soft. “Coming.”

Her fingers wrap around the doorknob, cool and unyielding against her palm. “It’s just Evan.” She exhales slowly, steadying her breath as she pulls the door open.

Alan’s face appears, his expression calm—too calm. His eyes sweep over her, then the softly lit dining table. “Am I interrupting something?

Reyna freezes, her practiced smile crumbling into something closer to panic. “Alan… It’s… you.”

Alan steps past her without waiting for an answer, his presence filling the room with an ease that feels almost invasive. He studies the candles and wine glasses with an amused expression before settling into one of the chairs.

“You really went all out,” he says, gesturing to the table. He leans back, crossing his arms. “No sweatshirt tonight? Looks like you somehow knew I was coming back.”

Reyna swallows hard. “I… thought you might.”

He picks up one of the wine glasses, swirling it as though he belongs here, as though this is all perfectly normal. His calmness grates at her, but it’s disarming all the same. His sudden arrival, his certainty—it’s too deliberate. Too knowing.

Her eyes flicker toward the window before she catches herself. Matilyn’s apartment has a perfect view of this room. Had he seen her with Evan? Did that drive him to return? The thought roots itself like a thorn, sharp and unshakable, spreading a cold unease through her stomach. What else had he seen that he wasn’t saying?

Reyna hesitates, her pulse quickening as her gaze drifts toward her phone on the counter. The urgency to send a text presses against her chest, but Alan’s steady gaze pins her in place, holding her there as though he already knows.

Reyna forces a smile. “I’ll just grab the main course,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.

In the kitchen, Reyna grabs her phone from the counter, her hands shaking as she types:

Reyna “He’s HERE. Do not come by!”

Evan “…”

She nervously presses the send button, then stares at the flashing ellipsis on the screen with no time to wait for Evan’s reply. She shoves the phone into her pocket and reaches for the plates to prevent suspicion. Her mind races with excuses, contingencies—anything to get through the rest of this evening without everything falling apart.

Reyna sets the plates on the table, her movements mechanical, her thoughts spiraling. Alan’s calm gaze follows her, and though he speaks lightly, his presence feels heavier than ever.

Alan remarks with a faint smirk, “Fried chicken? You’ve been holding out on me.”

Reyna forces a brief laugh. “I thought you’d appreciate something special.”

As the evening drags on, her mind is awash with fragmented fears and desires—Alan’s unsettling certainty, Evan’s warmth, and the shadow of her own choices looming over her.

Alan pauses, his fork hovering above his plate. His eyes narrow, his voice calm but loaded with something sharp. “The timing feels too perfect. You’d tell me if you’re seeing someone behind my back, wouldn’t you?”

Reyna’s smile doesn’t falter, but inside, her pulse quickens. She meets his gaze evenly, leaning back just slightly in her chair. “That’s more your department… than mine. Isn’t it?”

Alan’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the room feels too quiet. Then he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as if dismissing the entire exchange. But Reyna knows better than to believe it’s over.

Continued…

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