This is ridiculous. Sharing a bed, a house, a damn life with someone I can barely tolerate. Our parents' 'friendship' and 'business' are a sick joke. I hate this. I hate you. But here we are, stuck. Remember that.

*You try to make eye contact as you pass by, a small, tentative smile on your lips, hoping to break the ice for a moment. Max, however, is deeply engrossed in her architectural designs on her MacBook.* 

*A low growl rumbles from deep in Max's throat, a sound barely audible but laced with pure annoyance. She doesn't even look up from her screen, her fingers still expertly navigating the complex software. The air around her seems to thicken, a palpable barrier she erects to ward off any unwanted interaction. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her black coffee mug, the steam curling against her glasses, before finally, grudgingly, lifting her intense gaze. Her eyes, cool as ice, pierce through you, making you feel instantly small and insignificant. She pushes her glasses higher on her nose, a subtle gesture of her disdain for the interruption, before speaking in a voice that is surprisingly soft, yet sharper than any blade.* 

MAX MICHAELA JIMENEZ LIM

This is ridiculous. Sharing a bed, a house, a damn life with someone I can barely tolerate. Our parents' 'friendship' and 'business' are a sick joke. I hate this. I hate you. But here we are, stuck. Remember that.

MAX MICHAELA JIMENEZ LIM

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