Ezra raised an eyebrow but refrained from asking why.

“You—” Blair hiccuped, struggling to find the right words. “You never taught me how to care for a baby!”

Ezra blinked, staring at her as if she had sprouted two heads.

“When he was just a few days old, I didn’t know what to do! I thought I could simply throw him out the door, but he kept returning to me, and then—then he started pooping everywhere!”

Ezra’s eyes widened as his confusion deepened.

Her sobs grew more intense, as if she were recounting a tragic story. “I didn’t know what else to do! I tried ignoring him, but he cried all night. I couldn’t sleep even after I had fed him milk. I was not ready for all this responsibility!”

Ezra’s mind flew, trying to comprehend the absurdity of what she was saying. “Hold on. You’re saying you’re responsible for…”

Just as he was about to ask her what kind of madness she was referring to, something caused his senses to heighten.

Ezra froze, narrowing his eyes. He gently placed a palm over Blair’s mouth, silencing her sobs with a serious expression. “Stay quiet,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.

His gaze swept across the rooftop, searching for any signs of movement. He then closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on his hearing. Amidst the gusts of wind, he detected a faint rustling behind the rooftop door. Someone was there, eavesdropping.

Ezra’s muscles tensed, but he remained calm. He quickly assessed the situation. Whoever it was likely couldn’t have heard much because of the distance and the persistent wind.

He relaxed his posture, turning his attention back to Blair, whose tear-streaked face now wore a look of confusion. “Let’s go home.”

Blair blinked, frowning. “You can’t force me to go back, Ezra. I’m not—”

“Go home,” he interrupted, his tone more deliberate this time. “To your apartment.”

Blair froze.

Before she could protest, Ezra firmly guided her down the rooftop stairs. She muttered under her breath something about “not ready” and “my place isn’t...” But soon, they were moving, and Blair, lost in her thoughts, didn’t even notice the change in scenery.

When they finally stopped, Blair blinked in surprise at the sight of her apartment door. She stared at it, wide-eyed and bewildered, her mind reeling. How did they arrive here so quickly? And why had she allowed it?

She vaguely remembered expressing her objections along the way. But now, standing in front of the door, reality struck her like a brick to the face.

Her apartment was in disarray.

Ezra had already moved toward the door, rummaging through her bag for her keys. As he unlocked it, Blair’s heart raced with embarrassment. “No, wait, Ezra, we can’t—” she stammered, stepping forward to block his path.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? You don’t want me to see your child?”

Blair’s face turned scarlet. “It’s not that!” She bit her lip, struggling to explain without sounding ridiculous. “It’s... it’s just that my apartment is... um...”

But before she could finish, Ezra pushed the door open, and there it was.

Chaos!

Her apartment was a complete disaster. Clothes littered the apartment—on the couch and hanging over everywhere. A trail of mismatched socks led from the front door and unwashed dishes formed a leaning tower of shame. The unmistakable scent of cat food lingered in the air.

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Blair’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as her mind scrambled for an excuse—any excuse—but nothing came. Instead, she felt the prickling sensation of Chuchu bristling at her feet. The kitten’s ears flattened against his head, and his fur puffed up like a fuzzy balloon, ready to defend his tumultuous owner.

Its tail twitched in warning, and its eyes locked on Ezra like a sniper sizing up a target. She recognized the signs and knew she needed to defuse the situation quickly.

“Attack!”

However, her panic caused her words to become tangled.

The kitten soared through the air like a fur-covered missile, her claws extended and poised for vengeance. Ezra barely had time to react as the kitten landed squarely on his shoulder, her claws sinking into the fabric of his shirt. Seizing her opportunity, she darted across the room, quickly snatching up a pair of underwear that had been lying in plain sight on the floor, and shoved it into the laundry basket.

“I didn’t mean it! I meant to say stop!” Blair shouted, but her voice was barely audible over the chaos unfolding around her.

Ezra, surprisingly calm despite the whirlwind of fur and claws assaulting his shoulder, reached up and grasped the scruff of Chuchu’s neck, lifting the kitten effortlessly. Chuchu hissed and wriggled in protest, but Ezra held him steady, his expression entirely nonchalant.

“I heard you,” Ezra said, his voice dropping to a mumble. “As if I wasn’t the one who washed her clothes, even her undergarments, before.”

Blair didn’t hear him, but her mouth dropped open as she watched Ezra, seemingly unfazed, handle her tiny terror of a cat as if it were a harmless stuffed toy. He examined the kitten briefly, then, much to her horror, he casually swung his arm back as if preparing to toss the kitten out the door like a bag of trash.

“Ezra! Stop!” Blair shouted, lunging forward.

”You didn’t have a cage. I couldn’t clean your house properly if it’s inside. Trust me, young kittens stick close to their familiar environment. It won’t go away.”

Blair stood there, stunned, as Ezra started moving around her apartment like he owned the place. He barely broke a sweat as he tidied up, efficiently dealing with the clutter that had accumulated for a century.

In a matter of minutes, Ezra folded her clothes neatly and stacked them back in her wardrobe. The mess that had turned Blair’s apartment into a disaster zone seemed to vanish under his touch, as he cleaned the counters, swept the floor, and even reorganized her cluttered kitchen cabinets. Blair couldn’t help but gawk at how seamlessly he moved, his sleeves rolled up and eyes focused as if he was on some sort of mission.

Then, to her surprise, Ezra made his way to her broken bathroom heater, inspecting it like it was a simple puzzle. Within minutes, he had the panel off and was working on rewiring it. The faint sound of clinks and clicks filled the small apartment, and Blair watched in awe as he fixed the wiring, his hands moving deftly as if this was second nature to him.

Blair blinked, dumbfounded. When did he become an electrician too? she thought, but before she could ask, he had already moved on to the lights. He climbed up effortlessly, changing out all the burnt-out bulbs and replacing them with new ones. Soon, the apartment, which had been dim and dreary, was glowing warmly.

Just as Blair was about to express her disbelief at how easily he managed all of this, there was a knock at the door.

Ezra wiped his hands on a rag and walked over to the door. “Perfect timing,” he said as he opened it, revealing a delivery guy with bags of groceries in hand. Ezra took them with a nod and then wasted no time, headed straight for the kitchen.

Blair watched in stunned silence as he unpacked the groceries and began preparing a meal, moving swiftly around the kitchen. He diced vegetables, wrapped the boneless salmon in foil after seasoning, and set the stove ablaze and steamed it. He also marinated some meat.

“You—you’re cooking now, too?” Blair finally burst out, unable to hold back any longer.

“Well, you weren’t planning on feeding me boiled eggs, are you?” his hands never slowing as he chopped up a carrot.

Blair’s gaze remained fixed on Ezra, her mind still reeling from everything he had done in the last hour. How could anyone be so annoyingly efficient? She was supposed to learn something, maybe pick up a tip or two about cooking—or at least figure out how he cleaned her apartment like a pro. But the rhythmic sound of his chopping and the warm smells filling the room were oddly comforting.

She blinked several times, attempting to dispel the drowsiness that was creeping in. I’ll stay awake, she told herself, but her body had other plans. The longer she watched him, the heavier her eyelids became.

Ezra, noticing her slumped uncomfortably on the small couch, sighed. Without hesitation, he wiped his hands on a towel, walked over, and gently lifted her into his arms.

After laying her down, Ezra paused, standing over her as she slept. His gaze lingered on her peaceful face. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. For a fleeting moment, his expression softened. But then, as if remembering something, his face tightened, his jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened.

Resentment simmered beneath his strikingly handsome face.

“I didn’t hate you, Blair...” he whispered so quietly it was nearly inaudible. A deep bitterness hung in the air as he spoke. “I loathed you.”

Ezra sat at the edge of Blair’s small bed, his deep blue eyes fixed on her as she slept. A swirl of emotions flickered across his face—anger, hurt, and something else he couldn’t quite articulate. His fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the blanket, his mind drifting back to a memory he had buried for years.

It began with the kidnapping.

Blair and his mother were both taken in a broad daylight.