Chapter 56: Pinched Noses & Quiet Storms
We were supposed to be heading straight home, but somehow I ended up in front of a pet supply shop with Celestia tugging on my sleeve like a five-year-old who’d just spotted candy.
"Val—" I started.
"Husband, our daughter needs things," she cut in, already pushing the keys into my hand. "And my hand hurts, I can’t possibly drive like this." She held up her wrist and pouted like she’d fractured it in battle.
I raised an eyebrow. "That same hand carried a bag full of textbooks all day."
"That was academic duty. This is steering. Completely different." She added a pout for good measure, and before I could argue, she was already buckled into the passenger seat, victorious. I sighed, but she was beaming as though she’d won the argument.
By the time we were in the car, she’d folded herself sideways in the passenger seat, chin propped on her hand, just watching me.
She didn’t even pretend to look at the road. Her gaze burned into the side of my face like a spotlight.
I glanced at her once. "What?"
She smiled, slow and mischievous. "Nothing. Just admiring my chauffeur. Drive carefully, husband, you’re responsible for two girls now."
I groaned. "You literally planned this, didn’t you."
"Obviously." She leaned back with a satisfied hum. "This is quality time. Do you know how rare it is for wives to get this much attention from their busy husbands? I’m a neglected flower."
"You’re talking like I’m forty and work in an office."
"Exactly. Husband vibes," she shot back, eyes sparkling. "Also, you look good when you drive."
For some reason, that one landed deeper than all her usual chaos—like she wasn’t teasing, just telling the truth. I had to look back at the road before she noticed the stupid grin tugging at my mouth.
---
Inside the shop, it was like releasing her into Wonderland.
Cat beds. Scratching posts. A rainbow of collars. Toys I didn’t know existed. She touched everything, already piling a basket.
"Val, my house isn’t that big," I muttered, trailing after her while she debated between three different food bowls. "If you keep this up, Duchess will have more furniture than I do."
"That’s fine," she said sweetly. "We can always move. Or throw away your couch. Who needs couches? She needs a princess bed."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You’re insane."
"She’s our daughter," she shot back, holding up a tiny castle-shaped scratching tower with dead-serious eyes. "Do you want her to grow up deprived?"
"...She’s a cat."
> "She’s family."
I sighed, defeated. "You’re going to bankrupt me."
"Correction," she said, smug, dropping another toy into the cart. "I’m going to make you a responsible father."
Then she huffed, lips jutting out in a pout. "And don’t act like I didn’t try to pay. I offered. You just wouldn’t let me."
Back home, Duchess was sprawled like a queen on the new bed Celestia set in the corner.
"See? She loves it," Celestia declared, pulling her into her lap like a proud mother.
"She tolerates it," I muttered, trying to squeeze the scratching post into a corner. "Barely."
Celestia nuzzled the purring ball of fur. "Same difference. She’s happy, I’m happy. You’ll adjust."
I shook my head, but she only grinned wider, victorious as always.
---
Later that night, Duchess had finally curled up in her new bed and fallen asleep, the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest filling the quiet of the living room. I thought peace had arrived. But of course, Celestia wasn’t built for peace.
She nudged my arm with her foot. "Husband."
I didn’t look up from my laptop. "What, Val?"
I didn’t look up from the book in my hand. "Yes, Val."
> "Look at me."
"I am looking at you."
She leaned over, peering at the side of my face. "No, you’re looking at words."
"That’s paying attention to you indirectly."
"That doesn’t even make sense!" She sat up, tugged at my sleeve like a child. "Close it. Close it right now."
I exhaled, carefully sliding my finger into the page to keep my place. "Celestia—"
"You sighed." Her voice tilted upward, like I’d just broken her heart. "You’re sighing at me. That’s an abuse."
"Val."
She poked my cheek. "Husbaaaand."
"Valentina."
Her grin widened, pleased I used her middle name. "Yes, darling?"
"Stop."
She gasped, clutching her chest like I’d stabbed her. "You’re so cruel."
I closed the book and set it on the table, rubbing a hand over my face. "I’ve let you braid my hair for ’research,’ I’ve had your foot in my side for fifteen minutes, you’ve asked me if I love you seven times, and you tried to feed me chips while I was reading. Can I just—please—sit for five minutes without—"
"Without me?" she whispered, eyes going wide. "You don’t want me?"
My jaw tightened and my voice came out a touch louder than usual. "Val—"
She flinched. Just slightly, but enough. Then she folded instantly, curling into herself, voice suddenly small. "...Don’t be mad."
The switch hit me like a punch. Her bravado gone, she tucked her knees to her chest and peeked at me with wide, childlike eyes. "I don’t like when you’re mad at me."
I ran a hand down my face, guilt kicking in. "I’m not mad. I just... needed you to calm down for a second."
She pouted, chin resting on her knees. "You sound mad."
"I’m not."
Her lips tugged into the faintest pout. "You look like you are."
I shook my head, trying to steady my tone. "Val. I promise. I’m not mad at you."
She stayed quiet, studying me like she didn’t believe me. Then, in the smallest voice: "You didn’t pinch your nose."
That made me pause. "What?"
"You know." She mimed the gesture, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "You always do that when I’m annoying, but you let it slide. And I know it means... you’re not angry. Just... tolerating me.""
I stared at her.
She shrugged, almost shy for once. "It’s like... your secret way of telling me you’re not mad. That I’m too much, but you still love me anyway."
The room felt heavier suddenly, the weight of her words pressing against my chest.
"I notice," she went on, softer now, like a secret she hadn’t meant to say aloud. "Even when you think I’m not paying attention... I see it. And when you don’t do it, I think... maybe I pushed too far this time."
For a second, I just sat there, floored by the quiet vulnerability in her face. The girl who never shut up, who demanded, who clawed and pulled and insisted the world bend around her—sitting there with her knees to her chest, worried she’d lost me over something so small.
I leaned back slowly, then raised my hand and pinched the bridge of my nose. Deliberately.
Her face bloomed with relief, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "There it is."
I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. "You’re ridiculous."
"Maybe." She crawled closer, resting her chin on my shoulder, voice warm against my ear. "But I’m your ridiculous."
I turned my head slightly, catching the softness in her eyes. My chest tightened. "You’re impossible."
She grinned faintly. "And yet, you keep me."
---
Celestia’s brattiness didn’t vanish completely—it never did—but it softened. Every so often she would pause mid-rant or mid-demand to tilt her head and ask, "You’re not annoyed, right?" Her voice was unusually gentle, like she was testing the water. Each time, I just shook my head, and each time she grinned as if she’d won something before diving right back into whatever chaos she’d been brewing.
It was absurd. And... oddly sweet.
By the time she left for her own place that night, the house felt unnervingly quiet. Duchess had curled up and gone to sleep hours ago, but even the soft sound of the cat breathing didn’t fill the gap she left behind.
That was when my phone buzzed.
I frowned at the unfamiliar number, then picked up.
"Hello?"
] "Um—hi, Kai? It’s Avery."
Her voice was soft, polite, with that careful air of someone treading lightly.
I blinked. "Avery?"
"Yeah." She gave a quick, nervous laugh, the kind people make when they don’t want to sound like they’re intruding. "Sorry for calling out of the blue. I just... didn’t want to bother you in person tomorrow. I figured asking now would be better."
I shifted in my chair. "Asking what?"
"What we talked about concerning you tutoring me." She went on "I—I really don’t want to fall behind, and honestly, you’re probably the only one I’d trust to make sense of Halifax’s class. So... maybe tomorrow after classes?" she pressed lightly. "If it’s not too much trouble?"
I hesitated, running a hand over my jaw. Something in her voice sounded disarmingly sincere, almost too sincere. "...Yeah," I said after a beat. "Sure. That works."
"Really? Thank you, Kai. I owe you big time." A pause lingered, longer than necessary. Then she added, almost sheepishly, "I know this sounds silly, but talking to you now already makes me feel less stressed. Like, maybe I won’t drown in Halifax’s notes after all."
"...Glad to help," I said carefully.
Another pause. Then came the soft curve of a smile hidden in her voice. "I just hope your girlfriend won’t be mad I called. I wouldn’t want to cause any misunderstandings."
"She won’t," I said without hesitation. "Val’s... Val."
"Good." Avery exhaled as though genuinely relieved. "Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Kai."
The line clicked off before I could answer.
For a moment, the silence returned, pressing heavier than before. My mind drifted back to Val, to the way her stormy energy had melted the instant I raised my voice. How she’d tried so hard to make sure she wasn’t crossing a line, even though her very existence was one giant crossed line. She cared more than she let on—much more.
And Avery... she was laying her bricks slowly, carefully, painting every word with innocence. I couldn’t tell what she was building, but I could feel the shape of something dangerous forming.
Whatever her game was, it was only just beginning—
And even I couldn’t see what she was planning.
---
To be continued...