"Stop spiraling," Chloe said without looking up.

"I’m not spiraling."

"Your jaw is doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing where you clench it when you’re overthinking. I’ve been documenting it."

Jordan deliberately relaxed his jaw, which he had not realized was clenched. The fact that Chloe had been documenting his stress responses should have been concerning. Instead, it felt weirdly validating, like being seen clearly by someone who chose to stay anyway.

"I’m going to need you to stop keeping a dossier on my physical tics."

"Why? It’s useful information."

"For what?"

"For knowing when you’re lying." Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "For knowing when you’re scared. For knowing when you need me to change the subject because you’re about to spiral into anxiety about something you can’t control."

Jordan didn’t have a response to that.

Chloe set down the knife and wiped her hands on a dish towel, then walked around the counter to stand in front of him. She was shorter without heels, the top of her head barely reaching his chin, and looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

"Jordan."

"Yeah?"

"My mother is going to like you." Her hand came up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. "Daniel is going to like you. They’re going to see what I see, which is a person who is trying very hard to be better than he used to be. And that’s enough."

Her palm was warm through the fabric of his henley. Jordan covered her hand with his own.

"What if I say something stupid?"

"You say stupid things all the time. I still keep you around."

"Romantic."

"I’m not romantic. I’m practical." She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, the same gesture from last night. "Now help me finish the vegetables. My mother will judge us both if the prep work isn’t done by the time she arrives."

Jordan followed her to the kitchen island, accepting the knife she handed him and the pile of mushrooms waiting to be sliced. He had no idea what he was doing. Cooking had never been part of his skill set, as evidenced by the months of DoorDash and microwave meals that had defined his pre-System existence.

But Chloe showed him how to hold the knife properly, adjusting his grip with patient hands, and walked him through the basic technique until his mushroom slices were at least recognizable as mushroom slices.

"Not terrible," she said, examining his work.

"High praise."

"Don’t push it."

They worked side by side in comfortable silence, the only sounds the rhythmic tap of knives and the ambient hum of the refrigerator. Sunlight filtered through the factory windows, warming the space and catching the blue streaks in Chloe’s hair whenever she moved.

At one point, her hip bumped against his, an accidental contact that neither of them acknowledged or moved away from.

At another point, Jordan reached past her for a bowl and his chest brushed her shoulder, and she leaned into the contact for just a moment before pulling away.

Small intimacies. The kind that built slowly and quietly, brick by brick, until you looked up and realized you’d constructed something real.

Jordan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

"Aren’t you going to check that?"

"It’s probably Kyle asking about gym schedules."

"It buzzed three times."

Jordan pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen.

💝 CHEMISTRY UPDATE 💝

Chloe Kim: 78% → 79% (+1%)

Domestic activity detected. Bonus applied.

Current Return Rate: 1.58x

He stared at the notification. The System had detected them cooking together and decided it qualified as a romantic milestone worthy of a percentage boost.

Of course it had.

Of course his supernatural dating app tracked domestic activities like a stalker with a spreadsheet.

"Jordan?"

He locked his phone and shoved it back in his pocket.

"Kyle wants to know about gym schedules."

Chloe’s eyes narrowed slightly, the way they always did when she suspected he was hiding something. But she didn’t press, which was its own form of trust, an acknowledgment that Jordan had earned the right to some secrets even if she planned to uncover them eventually.

They finished the prep work at two-thirty, leaving thirty minutes before Daniel’s arrival. Chloe disappeared upstairs to change and apply the minimal makeup she used when her family was around, just enough foundation and concealer to look natural without looking like she was trying.

Jordan sat on her couch and tried not to spiral.

He failed.

His leg bounced against the floor in a nervous rhythm. His mind ran through every possible scenario: Daniel hating him immediately, Mrs. Kim seeing through his performance, something slipping about the hot springs or the OnlyFans or the fact that Jordan was dating two women at once and potentially adding a third.

The variables were too numerous. The margin for error too slim.

He was going to fail spectacularly, and Chloe’s family would convince her to dump him, and he’d be right back where he started except this time he’d know exactly what he was losing.

Chloe descended the stairs in a soft pink sweater and fitted jeans, her hair released from the messy bun and falling in natural waves around her shoulders. She looked younger without the blue contacts and the carefully curated Instagram aesthetic, softer and more approachable.

"Better?" she asked.

"You always look better."

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

At 2:58, someone knocked on the door.

Chloe crossed the apartment with quick steps, her composure shifting into something warmer and more open as she reached for the handle. Jordan stood from the couch, running one final check on his appearance and reminding himself that he’d faced worse than a fifteen-year-old gamer with opinions.

Actually, he wasn’t sure that was true.

Fifteen-year-old gamers with opinions were notoriously difficult to impress.

The door swung open.

"Noona!"

A blur of black hair and oversized hoodie launched itself at Chloe, who caught the impact with practiced ease and immediately began lecturing about proper greetings while simultaneously hugging back with obvious affection. Daniel Kim was taller than Jordan expected, already approaching Chloe’s height despite the three-year age gap, with the lanky build of someone still growing into his frame and the restless energy of someone who spent too much time in front of a screen.

He looked like Chloe around the eyes and mouth, the same sharp features and quick expressions, though his face still held the softness of adolescence.

Then Daniel spotted Jordan over his sister’s shoulder.

The hug ended abruptly.

"You’re the boyfriend?"

Jordan met the kid’s assessing stare without flinching.

"I’m the boyfriend."