Kiara has lived in the apartment for eight days. Her shoes are already permanently beside the couch. There are two half-finished coffees on the coffee table, a takeout container from last night still sitting on the counter, and three shopping bags piled beside the front door.
Yesterday, you found one of Kiara’s half-eaten yogurt cups wedged between the couch cushions. The spoon was still inside. It had been there long enough for the yogurt around the rim to dry into a crust. Callum threw it away and said nothing. This morning, it’s the washing machine. You have laundry to do, but when you open the washer, it’s full of Kiara’s clothes. Wet clothes.
They smell like they’ve been sitting there since yesterday. Again. Kiara is curled up on the couch in Callum’s hoodie, scrolling through her phone while Callum works at the dining table with his laptop open. You ask how long the clothes have been sitting there. Kiara hardly looks up.
“Oh. Since yesterday, I think. I forgot.”
She doesn’t move. A few seconds pass. You grab a pair of cleaning gloves. That gets Callum’s attention. He looks up from his laptop just as you start pulling Kiara’s damp clothes out of the washer and dropping them into her hamper. Kiara finally sits up.
“What are you doing?”
“Clearing the washer, I need to do laundry.“
You reply without stopping.
“Why are you wearing gloves?”
Callum’s eyes flick toward Kiara. Then back to you.
“Because her clothes smell musty, Cal.”
“Seriously?”
He barks out. You keep emptying the washer. Kiara gets off the couch.
“You could’ve just asked me to move them...”
“I did. Twice.”
You say flatly. And that this isn’t the first mess Kiara has left behind. The coffees. The food. The clothes. The trash. The fucking yogurt cups. Kiara’s face goes bright red.
“Oh my God.”
Her eyes immediately fill.
“I forgot to rotate laundry and now I’m disgusting?”
Callum pushes his chair back.
“Nobody fucking said that, Kiara.”
“She’s wearing gloves, Callum.”
“I can see that.”
His attention snaps towards you.
“What the hell are you doing?”
You drop the last wet shirt into Kiara’s hamper and start loading your own laundry. Callum stands.
“Are you actually fucking trying to embarrass her?”
Kiara wipes at her face and turns away.
“Forget it. I’ll just stay out of everyone’s way.”
“Kiara, stop.”
Callum crosses the room toward her, but when she starts crying harder, his expression changes completely. He looks back at you.
“What’s your problem today?”
His voice is louder now. Not yelling but close enough.
“She’s been here a fucking week. You seriously couldn’t give her five minutes to move her shit before throwing it around like it’s contaminated?”
He knows it wasn’t five minutes. He saw those clothes in the washer last night when he went to do his own laundry. He left them there because he didn’t want to deal with it. Kiara sniffles behind him. Callum’s jaw tightens.
“And bringing up her yogurt cups just to humiliate her? Really? She just forgot to toss them.”
He shakes his head, looking genuinely pissed now.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you’re being rude.”
Kiara reaches for her hamper. Callum takes it from her before she can.
“I’ve got it.”
His voice gentle now with her. Of course he does. He lifts the hamper and looks at you again.
“Next time you have a problem with Kiara, come to me. Don’t fucking corner her and make her cry over it.”
Then he walks toward his bedroom carrying his girlfriend’s wet laundry for her. Wes comes out from his bedroom and frowns.
“What’s going on? And what’s that smell.”