CHAPTER 7 — The Quiet Morning After
Sunlight woke me before my alarm ever could.
It poured through the blinds in long golden stripes, warming the tiny apartment I'd barely spent any time in over the last week. The familiarity should've grounded me, but instead it felt… strange. Like I'd stepped back into a life that had kept going without me.
My ribs didn't scream today. They ached — a dull, manageable echo — but I could breathe without hesitation. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and waited for the twinge of pain that had become routine.
It didn't come.
"Progress," I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face.
That's when the soft shimmer came into view — a quiet bloom of blue light at the edge of my vision.
Not loud. Not demanding.
Just… there.
[Main Quest Completed]
Support Ava Outside the Hospital
Reward Granted — (Intermediate Cooking Skill)
Warmth coursed through my head, like muscle memory assembling itself behind my eyes. Measurements made sense. Techniques flowed together. Knife angles, pan heat, dough consistency — details I never consciously learned settled into place as if I'd practiced them for years.
I exhaled slowly. A Useful skill, something almost tangible. A skill I could actually use with her.
The interface lingered just long enough to shift into something new.
[New Main Quest Available]
I straightened, pulse rising a little.
New Main Quest: Create a Memorable Moment for Ava
Objective: Plan and execute a genuinely relaxing outing for Ava — one that shows thoughtfulness and care.
Reward: Beginner Guitar Skill
I blinked.
"Guitar?"
Random… but somehow perfect.
Not flashy. Not dramatic. Not some overpowered nonsense.
Just… a tool. Something human. Something intimate. Something that could matter later, during a quiet evening, or when she was stressed, or when words wouldn't be enough.
With a mental flick, the system clicked away, fading like a soft breath.
I stood slowly, stretching out my back. The apartment felt empty — silent except for the hum of the old fridge and the distant sounds of students walking down the street. Today was Saturday. Campus was buzzing. The world kept moving.
But my mind was already planning.
A Memorable moment. Lets do something low pressure, something that would be a comfort for Ava.
Yesterday's cooking had been good — more than good. It was the first time since the accident that she looked genuinely relaxed. Shoulders lowered. Eyes softer. Smiling without guarding herself.
But the hospital wasn't the world.
And the world wasn't always kind to her.
So… what could I do that would let her breathe? What would feel safe, calming, gentle — a space where she didn't have to perform, impress, or hide?
The answer came slowly. A warm afternoon. A quiet place. Something personal, but not overwhelming or intimate.
A picnic.
Simple. I mean it's a classic. a nice lunch out in the warmth of spring. A space where she didn't have to think about anyone watching. But somewhere open and Free instead of the white wall of the hospital.
I could cook now — really cook. And with the new reward waiting on the other side of the Main Quest, maybe someday I could even play something for her.
But first… I needed supplies.
I eyes flicked again as the system pulsed softly.
[Daily Quest Available]
Perform 1 Kind Action
Reward: +2 to a Random Stat
Easy enough.
A kind action. Not world-changing — just something small.
I moved through the apartment, grabbing my jacket, wallet, and phone before stepping into the hallway. The building was older, carpet slightly frayed, paint uneven. I was almost at the exit when I heard a soft curse down the hall.
A girl was balancing a stack of books — way too many, wobbling dangerously — while digging in her pockets for her keys. She elbowed the elevator button, fumbling.
It wasn't Ava. It wasn't anyone special.
But kindness didn't need an audience.
"Here," I said, stepping forward. "Let me get the door for you."
Her head jerked up, surprised. "Oh—thank you! Seriously, I thought I was about to drop all of this."
I pushed the heavy front door open, letting her carefully shuffle through the space. She flashed me an appreciative grin.
"You're a lifesaver," she said.
I nodded, not lingering. "No problem. Have a good one."
As she disappeared into the sunlight, the system chimed.
[Daily Quest Completed]
Reward: (+2 Luck)
A soft, tingling sensation drifted across my mind, like the whisper of better timing, better instinct.
I inhaled, feeling something settle inside me — confidence, maybe. Or just momentum.
And with that, I started toward town, ribs steady, steps light.
The outdoor market wasn't far — a ten-minute walk if I took it slow. Students filtered between booths, buying overpriced pastries and handmade bracelets. I moved past each stand with purpose.
Picnic supplies.
First stop: a soft checkered blanket. A typical classic if I say so myself. You can't have a picnic without a checkered blanket.
A green-and-cream pattern caught my eye, warm and simple. I imagined it spread over grass, Ava sitting on one end, legs tucked up, sunlight in her hair. I swallowed and grabbed it without hesitation.
Next: a wicker basket.
I almost laughed when I found one — the sort that belonged in movies where everything goes perfectly and nobody ever spills anything. But I lifted it anyway, feeling the weight, imagining it full of food I could actually cook now.
The vendor —a middle aged lady— smiled. "Planning something romantic?"
I coughed. Hard. "Uh — not romantic. Just… a picnic."
Her knowing grin made my ears burn.
"Sure, honey."
I paid and moved on before she said anything more.
Next: ingredients. Since it was a picnic I though simple sandwiches would be best, but the wouldn't just be simple—not with my intermediate cooking skill.
Fresh tomatoes. Basil. A loaf of soft homemade-bread. Chicken breasts, seasoned lightly. Some berries. Lemons for a homemade drink. Real mozzarella — something soft, something she might notice.
Cooking with her yesterday had stirred something inside me — not attraction, not exactly. Something slower, more grounded. A desire to see her relax, to see her shoulders loosen, to give her a break from the weight she carried but never talked about, but always seemed to carry.
I could do that.
I wanted to do that.
And the system — for once — felt like a quiet partner in that goal, not a puppeteer.
I walked home slowly, basket under my arm, blanket tucked carefully inside. The weight felt… good. Like progress you could hold.
Back in the apartment, I set everything on the counter and let myself take a breath. Today was for prep. Tomorrow, maybe — if she said yes when I asked — could be the actual picnic.
But first, I needed to check the system again.
The interface shimmered open, clean and familiar.
ETHAN L. RIVERS — PERSONAL PROFILE
Core Stats:
Strength: 6
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 7
Charm: 16
Luck: 7
Confidence: 10
Derived Stats: Perception: Beginner (Unlocked via Social Insight)
Skills: Beginner Social Insight — Intermediate Cooking — Beginner Singing
Traits: Soulful Gaze — Gentle Touch
Affection Levels:
Ava Monroe — 21/ ???
Quests: Main Quest — Create a Memorable Moment for Ava
Daily Quest — Completed
I blinked.
"That's wrong," I muttered.
Because I could feel the difference — in my posture, my ability to read her, my awareness of space and timing. My stats were outdated.
The system pulsed, as if waiting for permission to reveal the truth.
"Update," I whispered.
The numbers flickered.
ETHAN L. RIVERS — PERSONAL PROFILE
Core Stats:
Strength: 6 → 9
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 7
Charm: 16
Luck: 7 → 9
Confidence: 10 → 11
Derived Stats: Perception: Beginner (Unlocked via Social Insight)
Skills: Beginner Social Insight — Intermediate Cooking — Beginner Singing
Traits: Soulful Gaze — Gentle Touch
Affection Levels:Ava Monroe — 21 / ???
Quests: Main Quest — Create a Memorable Moment for Ava
Daily Quest — Completed
I let out a slow breath.
Nothing overpowered.Nothing ridiculous.Just… growth.
Seeing the numbers — the change, even just a little — felt incredibly satisfying.
I stared at the basket, the ingredients, the blanket waiting to be folded.
"A Memorable moment," I murmured.
Not something flashy. Not something dramatic. Something that said:
You matter. You're safe here. You can breathe when you're with me.
A picnic wasn't a grand gesture. It wasn't fireworks or confessions or cinematic tension.
But it was real.
And tomorrow…Tomorrow, I'd ask her.
If she said no, I'd accept it. If she hesitated, I'd give her space.
But if she said yes?
Then maybe this subtle, slow-building connection might become something more.
For now, I set the basket aside, folded the blanket neatly, and exhaled into the quiet apartment.
One step forward. One quiet Saturday. One moment built with intention.
Chapter 7 ended with a sense of calm — the kind that comes before something meaningful.
And tomorrow, I'd see what kind of moment I could make.