It was just past 7:00 AM when the shriek jolted me upright.

Startled, I shot up from bed, heart hammering against my chest like I’d just dodged a bullet in a dream. The serenity of our apartment was shattered by the unmistakable chaos of Mia in crisis mode.

Designer scarves, heels, silky dresses, flying from the walk-in closet like a couture hurricane. The sound of hangers clashing and zippers being yanked open cut through the early morning silence like glass. From where I sat, I could barely make out her silhouette amid the whirlwind of tulle, sequins, and heartbreak.

The bedroom was a high-ceilinged haven of minimalist opulence: soft matte cream walls, brushed brass accents, and wall-to-wall mirrors that reflected the morning light streaming through sheer Italian curtains. A walnut credenza anchored one wall, topped with Mia’s Diptyque candles and a careless scattering of Byredo perfume bottles. In the corner, a chrome floor mirror, her favourite for selfies, now captured her dramatic collapse to the floor in couture defeat.

She curled into herself on the plush, pale-grey rug beside the bed, surrounded by a sea of garments more expensive than my car. Her voice cracked, thick with desperation.
“I have nothing to wear tonight.”

Still half-asleep and sore from James’s afterparty last night, I squint at the time on my phone. 7:02 AM. The floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I got up and padded toward her.

“Everything okay in there?” I called softly.

From inside the closet, a soft ugh escaped her lips before she emerged—messy bun askew, eyeliner smudged from the night before. She looked as if she were fighting back tears, though I wasn’t sure if they were real or performance art.

Sinking to the floor, she exhaled dramatically. “I’ve gone through everything. I have nothing. Not one thing I haven’t already worn, posted, or been tagged in.”

I leaned against the doorframe, amused. “Then why don’t you just go shopping?”

She paused for a beat, eyes downcast. “Can’t. I maxed out.”

“…Maxed out?” I stepped closer. “You mean… your cards?”

She gave me a single solemn nod. “All of them.”

For a second, I just stood there, blinking. Then I couldn’t help it—I laughed.

Mia's head shot up. Her eyes narrowed into daggers. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly, hands raised in surrender. “Promise.”

She glared at me, lips twitching as though she might either kiss me or strangle me.

“You know what?” I said, stepping over a pair of discarded Louboutins. I dropped back onto the bed and reached for my wallet on the nightstand. With a small sigh, I pulled out my American Express and held it up between two fingers like a white flag. “Here. Just… don't go overboard. If you max this out, I swear I’ll never lend you another cent.”

She looked at the card like it was the Holy Grail.

Then, with the grace of a cat and the speed of a thief, she lunged onto the bed and pounced. I tightened my grip, teasing her, keeping it just out of reach.

“I mean it,” I said, feigning sternness.

“Okay, okay,” she said with a breathless smile, wriggling closer. “Come on…”

“One dress. And then you bring it back,” I warned.

Mia’s entire face lit up as she finally snatched the card from my hand. She kissed me on the cheek—quick, warm, electric—and leapt off the bed with a triumphant squeal.

“I promise! And only if it’s on sale!” she called over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Seconds later, the front door clicked shut.

I lay there in silence for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the scent of her perfume still hanging in the air. Then I reached for my phone.

A moment later, an operator answered. “Good afternoon, Mr. Letren.”

“Hi, good morning. Could you do me a favour and put a spending limit on my American Express for today?” I asked, rubbing my eyes and sinking back into the pillows.

“Yes, sir. I can do that for you.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

As I hung up, the tension eased from my shoulders. I set the phone down, pulled the covers over myself, and smiled to no one in particular.

Somehow, even her chaos made me fall for her a little more each day.

Romance may not have arrived just yet this morning—but it was absolutely on the horizon.