Perfect Balance

    Lexa’s mornings were carefully crafted balance between structure and calm that set the tone for her day. The soft chime of her alarm clock at precisely 5:30 a.m. stirred her from sleep, and she rose immediately, never one to linger. Her bed, neatly made with crisp white linens and a charcoal-gray throw, was a reflection of her personality—minimalistic but intentional.

    The muted warmth of her modern apartment enveloped her as she moved purposefully through the space. The walls, painted in soft earth tones, reflected her balanced nature—grounded, yet with room to adapt. Framed sketches of her favorite architectural designs hung in a clean grid above her desk, while shelves held curated photographs of completed projects. Each object had a place, each space carefully designed to feel functional yet welcoming.

    In the corner by a large window sat her favorite photo: a younger Lexa standing beside her grandfather, their smiles illuminated by sunlight. Behind them, the old green car he had gifted her gleamed with pride. Lexa often paused there in the mornings, letting her fingers brush the edge of the frame. The image carried a bittersweet weight, a reminder of her grandfather’s steady presence in her life and the lessons he’d imparted about discipline, purpose, and the value of precision.

  After a glass of water and a moment to stretch, Lexa laced up her running shoes. The crisp morning air greeted her as she stepped outside, the quiet hum of her neighborhood a comforting backdrop. Her path wound through tree-lined streets and small parks, familiar yet ever-changing with the seasons. Each step of her run was deliberate, the rhythm of her feet on the pavement steady and grounding.

    Though her day ahead was meticulously planned—client meetings, a site visit, and time set aside for reviewing blueprints—Lexa allowed her mind to wander during these early moments. The motion of running was meditative, a rare opportunity to let her thoughts flow freely without the pressure of immediate action. She thought about her team’s latest project, the details of a design proposal she had yet to finalize, and occasionally, fleeting reflections on her relationships.

    Her running route always ended at the same small café near her apartment. There, she picked up a plain black coffee and exchanged a brief, polite smile with the barista, who had learned not to expect small talk. Lexa wasn’t unfriendly, but mornings were hers—a time for focus and quiet introspection.

    Back at home, she transitioned seamlessly into her workday. As she showered and dressed, her movements remained deliberate, her wardrobe as practical as her mindset: clean lines, muted tones, and an understated elegance that echoed her architectural philosophy. Every piece of her routine was carefully chosen, a reflection of her belief that even the smallest details mattered.

    Yet, amidst all the structure, there was a quiet flexibility in Lexa’s mornings—a willingness to adapt if the day required it. She wasn’t rigid; she simply valued purpose. Her mornings were less about control and more about creating a foundation from which she could meet the day’s challenges head-on.

    This balance of discipline and adaptability defined Lexa’s personality. She thrived in order but embraced the subtle unpredictability of life, finding beauty in the way it intersected with her careful plans. It was a reflection of who she was: precise, thoughtful, and always striving for harmony, even in the quiet rituals of her mornings.

---

    Lexa’s architectural firm, Woods and Partners Design, was a mid-sized but highly sought-after company specializing in sustainable and innovative architecture. Located in a sleek, sunlit building in the heart of Arkadia’s business district, the office reflected the company’s ethos—modern, efficient, and designed with intention.

    Arriving promptly at 8 a.m., Lexa stepped into the buzzing workspace. Her team greeted her with polite nods and occasional smiles, acknowledging her presence without interrupting their flow. Lexa returned the greetings with a subtle but warm nod, appreciating the respectful, collaborative atmosphere she had worked hard to cultivate.

    Her office, tucked into the corner of the floor, was a serene space dominated by large windows overlooking the city. The walls were adorned with design blueprints and concept sketches, some of her own and others submitted by her team. A minimalist wooden desk sat in the center, its surface organized with precision—laptops, sketchpads, and a single succulent her assistant insisted added “life” to the room.

    Just as she began reviewing the day’s schedule, Anya appeared in the doorway, effortlessly balancing a cup of coffee and a stack of paperwork. Her dark suit was slightly rumpled, as always, a sharp contrast to Lexa’s perfectly tailored blazer and spotless desk.

    “Morning, boss,” Anya greeted with a teasing smirk, setting the coffee down on Lexa’s desk. “Another day, another chance to wow the world, huh?”

    Lexa glanced up from her tablet, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “If by ‘wow’ you mean present a logical, evidence-based proposal, then yes.”

    Anya rolled her eyes dramatically, dropping into the chair across from Lexa. “You’re so predictable. One of these days, Lex, you’re going to have to let a little chaos into your life. Try something wild—like wearing mismatched socks.”

    Lexa arched an eyebrow. “Mismatched socks are neither efficient nor comfortable.”

    Anya snorted, shaking her head. “You’re impossible. You do know that charm isn’t all about logic and symmetry, right?”

    Lexa leaned back slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting in quiet amusement. “I’ll take your word for it.”

    Their banter was easy, rooted in years of shared history. Anya’s bold, irreverent personality was the perfect foil to Lexa’s calm intensity, and their working dynamic reflected a deep mutual respect.

    By mid-morning, Lexa was in the conference room, presenting a proposal to a group of potential clients. The room, outfitted with sleek screens and a large wooden table, was filled with the quiet hum of professional anticipation.

    Her presentation focused on a sustainable community center, a project she had poured months of effort into alongside her team. As she spoke, her voice was calm and assured, her passion evident in the way she described every detail—from the solar-paneled roof to the adaptable, open-concept interior designed to meet the community's evolving needs.

    One client, a man in his fifties with a skeptical air, interrupted. “It’s a lovely concept,” he said, “but is it practical? These kinds of designs often sound good in theory but fail in execution.”
    Lexa didn’t flinch. Instead, she paused, her green eyes steady as she considered his concern. “Practicality and sustainability aren’t mutually exclusive,” she said evenly. “This design is more than just aesthetics—it’s about functionality, longevity, and the community it’s meant to serve. Every element has been carefully calculated, from energy efficiency to cost management during construction.”
    Her calm conviction filled the room, silencing further objections. Another client, a woman sitting near the end of the table, nodded appreciatively. “I like that. It’s refreshing to see a design that prioritizes both the environment and the people who will use it.”

    Anya, seated in the corner to observe, gave Lexa an exaggerated thumbs-up the moment their eyes met. Lexa’s expression remained professional, but the subtle quirk of her lips betrayed her satisfaction.
   
    As the clients signed off on the project, Anya sidled up to Lexa on their way back to her office.

“See? That’s what I mean by charm. Maybe you should bottle that and sell it.”

    “I don’t think charm is something you can monetize,” Lexa replied with dry humor.

    “You’d find a way,” Anya shot back, grinning. “You always do.”

    The rest of the day was spent in meetings with her team, discussing the progress of various projects. Lexa’s leadership style was collaborative; she encouraged her designers and engineers to voice their opinions, often challenging them to think critically but never dismissively.

    At one point, a junior architect hesitated to share an idea, nervously fiddling with her pen. Lexa noticed and addressed her directly, her tone gentle but firm. “Every idea starts somewhere. Let’s hear it.”
    The encouragement worked, and the architect shared a suggestion that sparked a lively discussion among the team.

    By the end of the day, Lexa’s calm confidence and attention to detail had left their mark on every project she touched. While she rarely sought validation, the quiet respect of her team and the satisfaction of progress were enough to remind her why she loved her work.

    Back at her desk, as the office emptied out, Anya leaned against the doorway again, arms crossed. “So, what’s next, Wonder Architect?”

    Lexa glanced at the plans spread across her desk. “More work. But first, dinner.”
Anya grinned. “Now that’s the kind of chaos I like to hear.”

    As they ate, Anya brought up Lexa’s ancient car. “So, when are you finally trading in that dinosaur?”

    “Never,” Lexa said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

    “It’s falling apart.”

    “It’s more than a car,” Lexa explained, her voice softening. “It’s him.”

    Anya’s teasing expression shifted to one of understanding. “I get it. But you better keep it and yourself in one piece.”

    After finishing their food, Lexa and Anya resumed their work. Anya decided to finish a report in Lexa's office, while Lexa worked on her blueprint for another future project proposal.

    They were startled by Lexa's secretary, who knocked on the door, her head peeked in to the office,

    "Boss, it's already 6, are you working overtime again?" the woman asked and smiled apologetically when Lexa narrowed her eyes, and backed out of the door, escaping her boss's wrath. 

    Lexa sighed, she already told her secretary not to say a word about her overtime around Anya, since the older woman would start to tell her to take—

    "I told you to take better care of yourself, Lex,"

    There she was, the 'mother-hen-Anya'.

    Lexa chuckled at her own inner monologue, and shook her head when Anya lifted an eyebrow,

    "I didn't do overtime everyday, Ahn. It was only yesterday, and...the day before that,"

    "But still. You're the boss, you can act like one sometimes, you know. Like those lazy big corporate bosses with big stomach," Anya said with teasing smirk,

    Lexa snorted at the images that came into mind, "If that is how a boss should be, then no, thanks. I'd rather work like horse. You know how expensive this blazer is? Imagine I had to expand my size!" Lexa said, her eyes wide with mirth.

    They both laughed at that.

    "My argument still stand. Go home, get a good night’s sleep. You’ve got a site visit tomorrow, and the clients’ response from our earlier meeting was good. You’ll want to make sure everything’s perfect.” Anya said in her no nonsense tone.

    "Alright, alright," Lexa sighed, a faint smile on her lips.

    "Good," Anya smirked as she packed her laptop and bag, before walking to the door.

    Before leaving, Anya couldn’t resist one last dig. “It's Friday, by the way. Are you going to act like a normal person and go out? Meet cute girls and dance, getting drunk? You can’t just date your job, you know.”

    Lexa smirked. “Who says I’m not married to it already?”

    Anya rolled her eyes, letting out an exaggerated groan. “You need to live a little, Lex. And I’m not talking about site visits.”

    She left the office with a short goodbye, her laughter echoing faintly in the corridor.

    Lexa chuckled softly but remained seated for a moment, her cousin’s words lingering in the quiet of her office. Beneath her composed exterior, she felt a flicker of recognition. Anya was right—there was a part of her that longed for more, something beyond the carefully constructed solitude she had built around herself.

    As she locked her office that night, she glanced at the framed photo on her desk—her younger self standing beside her grandfather and the car he’d gifted her. The image reminded her of the importance of balance, a lesson he’d often preached but she hadn’t quite mastered.

---
    It was Saturday morning, and as promised, Lexa found herself at the construction site of the sustainable community center she had pitched to the clients earlier in the week. The crisp air carried the familiar scents of earth and machinery, grounding her in the moment. The site buzzed with activity—workers hauling materials, machinery humming in the background, and the rhythmic thud of hammers driving nails into beams.

    Lexa arrived in her usual on-site attire: faded jeans that bore faint signs of wear from countless site visits, steel-toed boots scuffed from years of use, and a dark gray T-shirt that clung to her lean frame. She paired the look with a jacket and hard hat perched neatly on her head and a tablet in hand, exuding both practicality and quiet authority.

    The visit wasn’t just routine; it was vital. The clients’ response to her earlier pitch had been overwhelmingly positive, and their enthusiasm brought an added weight of expectation. She knew their interest would hinge on flawless execution, and Lexa thrived on delivering nothing short of excellence.

    “Morning, Woods,” the foreman, a gruff but amiable man named Bennett, greeted her as she stepped onto the site. “You’re here early. Again.”

    Lexa offered a faint smile. “Progress doesn’t wait, Bennett.”

    He chuckled, shaking his head. “One of these days, you’ll actually trust us to do our jobs without you hovering over every beam.”

    “I do trust you,” Lexa replied, a hint of humor in her tone. “But you know me—perfectionist tendencies.”

    The two fell into step, walking through the site as Lexa inspected the framework of the building. She paused near the skeletal structure of what would soon be the community center’s main hall. Her sharp eyes caught a minor misalignment in the beams.

    “Bennett,” she called, gesturing for him to join her. When he approached, she pointed to the issue. “The alignment here is off by a few degrees. If we adjust it now, we’ll save time and materials later.”

    Bennett scratched his beard, nodding in agreement. “Good catch. I’ll get the team on it.”

    Lexa’s hands-on approach wasn’t just appreciated; it was respected. The workers often joked that she spent more time on-site than in her office. As she moved across the site, checking structural details and making notes on her tablet, one of the younger contractors called out, “You sure you’re not a contractor in disguise, boss?”

    Pausing, Lexa allowed herself a rare smile. “I like to keep things interesting,” she replied, her tone tinged with understated humor.

    The workers chuckled, their admiration evident in the way they quickly returned to their tasks, determined to meet her high standard.

    The site visit felt like a culmination of the week’s efforts. Lexa’s thoroughness had paid off, ensuring the project was moving smoothly and meeting the clients’ expectations. Still, there was no room for complacency in her world. Everything needed to be perfect—not just for the clients, but for the community the center would serve.

    Lexa’s thoughts occasionally wandered back to her conversation with Anya. As she oversaw the adjustments to the beams, she couldn’t help but wonder what “living a little” might look like for her.

    Would it mean taking a chance on a social life? Exploring the possibility of opening herself up to someone beyond her work?

    For now, her passion for her projects was enough to keep her moving forward. As the workers called it a day and the sun dipped lower in the sky, Lexa stood by the edge of the site, watching the skeletal framework cast long shadows on the ground.

    The work was progressing beautifully, each beam and bolt bringing her closer to realizing the vision she had pitched with such conviction. Still, as she packed up and prepared to leave, she felt a quiet ache—a reminder that, for all her accomplishments, there was still an empty space in her life waiting to be filled.

    “See you Monday, Woods,” Bennett called as she headed toward her car.

    “See you then,” she replied, her voice steady but her thoughts elsewhere.

    Driving home, Lexa allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability, wondering if she was finally ready to let a little chaos into her meticulously ordered world.

    The late evening sky was painted in hues of amber and purple as Lexa drove her car down a quiet stretch of road. The day’s work at the construction site had left her tired but satisfied. 

    Her thoughts were interrupted by a sputtering noise. Lexa frowned, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the car jerked once, twice, and then coasted to a stop.

    “Not again,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.

    She stepped out of the car, still dressed in her faded jeans, steel-toed boots, and a dark gray T-shirt that now streaked with dust. Her jacket, slung over the driver’s seat, hadn’t escaped the day’s grime either. Leaning over the hood, she stared at the engine, frustration simmering as she realized she didn’t have the tools—or the expertise—to figure out the problem.

    Pulling out her phone, Lexa scrolled to Anya’s contact and hit call.

    “Don’t tell me,” Anya said the moment she picked up. “The car?”

    “Obviously,” Lexa replied, exhaling sharply. “It broke down again. This time, I’m stranded on the side of the road.”

    “You should’ve replaced that thing years ago,” Anya said, her tone half-teasing.

    “It’s not just a ‘thing,’” Lexa shot back.

    “Grandpa gave it to me. I’m not getting rid of it.” 
    Lexa couldn't count how many times she and Anya had talked about this.

    “Fine, fine. Calm down, sentimental one,” Anya said with a chuckle. “I’ll send the tow truck to Raven’s shop. You know the drill.”

    Lexa smirked despite her irritation. 

    “Thanks. Just make sure Raven’s still there.”

    “She owes me a drink for all these referrals,” Anya quipped.

    “Tell her to put it on my tab,” Lexa said, leaning back against the car and waiting for rescue.

---

    By the time the tow truck delivered her car to Raven’s shop, it was  4:30PM, and the garage was still open, thankfully. Lexa stepped out, dusting her hands off on her jeans, and glanced around the familiar space. She’d been here just two weeks ago, a Monday evening, when her car had  started acting up again.

    Raven waved her over. “Hey, Woods! What’s up with your ancient jalopy now?”

    Lexa gave a small, tired smile. “It started making a noise this morning.

    “Again?” Raven groaned, hands on her hips. “Didn’t I just fix this thing two weeks ago?”

    Lexa nodded, looking faintly sheepish.

    “Monday. It stalled on the way home,” Lexa replied. “Probably something in the engine again. I’ll let you work your magic."

    Raven nodded, tossing a rag over her shoulder. “Magic takes time, but I’ll see what I can do. Anya’s right, though—you should really think about upgrading.”

    Lexa crossed her arms, her tone firm but not unkind. “I’m not replacing it, Raven.”

    Raven shrugged. “Your call. Just don’t blame me when it leaves you stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

    “Let me guess, Anya said I owed her a drink for all these 'referrals'?” Raven smirked.

    “Of course she did,” Lexa replied smoothly, offering a small smile. “She called the tow truck for me. Apparently, my driving doesn’t ‘deserve better,’ but my car does.”

    Raven snorted. “Sounds like Anya.”

    Lexa noticed someone stood behind Raven, her expression was between frustration and curiosity. Raven noticed where she was looking looked back,

    “Clarke!” Raven called, motioning her forward. 

    “Lexa, meet Clarke Griffin.” Raven said, gesturing toward her.

    “Clarke, meet Lexa. She’s Anya’s cousin and best friend. And I personally think that Anya’s grudge for Lexa's love for it also the reason this poor car keeps ending up here.”

    “It’s old but reliable,” Lexa said, her tone defensive but good-humored.

    Clarke raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t seem reliable if it keeps breaking down.”

    Raven snorted, trying to hold back a laugh. Lexa blinked. For a moment, she felt a familiar tug in her gut. Clarke's blunt honesty was refreshing and she chuckled.

    “You’re not wrong,” Lexa said, her smile growing.

    Lexa extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

    Clarke seemed to hesitate for a moment before shaking it. “You too.”

    “How long do you think it’ll take?” Lexa asked, turning back to Raven.

    Raven leaned against the car with mock seriousness. “Depends. Do you want the quick fix or the ‘this might actually last longer than a month’ fix?”

    Lexa sighed. “The second one, obviously.”

    “Then leave it with me,” Raven said. “Clarke and I were just about to head to dinner, but I’ll take a look after that.”

    Clarke blinked. “We are?”

    “It’s 4:45,” Raven said with a smirk. “We always go to the diner around now.”

    “Oh. Right,” Clarke muttered, glancing at Lexa.

    Lexa gave a small smile, sensing Clarke’s discomfort. “Don’t let me keep you. I can take a cab home.”

    “No way,” Raven said. “Clarke’s not eating all her fries alone. You’re coming with us.”
---

    Lexa, Raven and Clarke walked into the diner. The faint buzz of conversation and the scent of sizzling burgers greeting her. 

    Lexa slid into the booth beside Raven, while Clarke chose to sit in front on the opposite. Although the seat wasn’t cramped,  Lexa can't help but noticed that there was something that made Clarke uneasy. She folded her hands in her lap, as if trying to keep her composure. 

    “Grilled chicken sandwich with a side of fries  and soda, right?” Raven asked Clarke already flipping open the menu despite knowing exactly what she wanted.

    Clarke nodded stiffly.
    
    “Wait—” Lexa interjected, her voice calm but curious. “You order the same thing every time?”

    “It’s reliable,” Clarke said flatly, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

    Lexa tilted her head slightly, studying Clarke.“What’s reliable about a diner sandwich?”

    “Everything,” Raven chimed in before Clarke could respond, grinning. “You can mess up a lot of things, but even a bad diner sandwich still works.”

    Lexa raised a brow, her lips quirking, “That’s a pretty low bar.”

    “Welcome to Raven’s philosophy on food,” Clarke muttered, unable to help the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

    Lexa looked at Raven, who just shook her head and chuckled.
---

    As they waited for their food, the conversation shifted to Raven’s latest projects at the shop. Lexa noticed from her peripheral vision as Clarke stayed quiet, letting Raven and Lexa bounce comments back and forth, as though her mind half-focused on the words and half-distracted by something.

    “Clarke, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Raven suddenly said, leaning back against the booth. “Cat got your tongue?”

    Clarke flushed slightly. “Just tired.”

    “Or bored,” Lexa quipped dryly, her lips twitching in the barest hint of a smile.

    Clarke’s brows furrowed in confusion. 
    “Bored?”

    “Of my car troubles, most likely,” Lexa said, her tone as even as ever but laced with subtle humor.“I can’t blame you. Hearing about an aging clunker isn’t exactly riveting dinner conversation.”

    Raven snorted. “True. But hey, Clarke loves boring. Reliable, remember?”

    Lexa’s lips curved into a small smirk. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? I’ll try to be more... reliable in my storytelling.”

    Clarke blinked, seemed caught off guard by the dry humor. It was odd how Lexa felt her heart fluttered when the blonde finally let out a small laugh—soft, almost reluctant, but genuine.

    “There it is,” Raven said, pointing her fry at Clarke. “A Clarke Griffin laugh. Mark the date, folks.”

    Lexa chuckled seeing Clarke rolled her eyes, her cheeks took a darker shade, but the moment had broken an unknown tension between them. 

    During their dinner, Lexa felt like someone was...dissecting her every moves and words. She was not usually self-conscious, but something about Clarke's eyes on her sparked unexplained feelings. 

    It was suddenly raining as they enjoyed the food, and again, Lexa noticed Clarke's subtle discomfort. How she looked at her watch, then outside the window where she could see the rain splattered softly on the glass. And then, those blue eyes would shift to her again; she felt it even when she was looking at Raven while the mechanic talked.

    Clarke made her curious, and oddly enough, she felt at ease being around the younger woman. 

    When the rain finally stopped at 6:35 PM, Lexa, Clarke and Raven left the diner, stepping into the brisk evening air , fresh scent of the rain still lingered, mingling with the distant humm of traffic.

     Lexa noticed that Clarke walked a step behind her and Raven, her tired frame betraying the weight of a long day. Lexa felt for her. The architect finally felt that her busy day was catching up to her.

    “You’re dragging, Griff,” Raven said lightly, glancing over her shoulder.

    “I’m fine,” Lexa heard Clarke's soft response, though her slumped shoulders and weary tone told a different story.

    Lexa stopped a few steps ahead for a litlle bit of privacy when Raven stopped walking, turning fully to face the blonde.

    “No, you’re not. You’re exhausted, and we're not going to the bar in this state. O will understand.” Raven said.

    Clarke frowned, the corners of her mouth tugging downward. “It’s our thing, Raven. I don’t want to bail.”

    Lexa frowned, getting more curious about Clarke, and moved as Raven stepped closer to Clarke, lowering her voice to something more soothing. “Clarke, it’s just one weekend. O and Bell own the place; they’ll be there next weekend, and the one after that. It’s not like we can’t reschedule. You need rest.”

    Clarke seemed hesitating, glancing at Lexa. The architect listened without judging Clarke, and somehow Lexa knew that Clarke was not like other people; she was charmingly special. Lexa found herself smiling and gave a subtle nod of encouragement

    “She’s right,” Lexa added softly. “Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean letting others down. It’s just... prioritizing.”

    Clarke sighed, “Alright, fine. But you’re explaining it to Octavia.”

    Raven smirked. “Already handled. Told her you owe her a shot next time, and she said, ‘Make it two, or she’s dead to me.’”

    That earned a faint smile from Clarke, and Raven smiled triumphantly, winking at Lexa.

    She shook her head, no wonder the mechanic was able to win Anya. She just knew that it won't be long for Anya and Raven to realize how compatible they were.
---
    As they walked toward Raven’s workshop, the streets grew quieter, the sounds of the city dimming into the background. Clarke’s pace slowed, her steps heavier with each passing block.

    “Hey,” Raven said after a moment, breaking the silence. “Why don’t we just head back to my place? You can crash on the couch or something. No pressure.”

    “I don’t want to be a burden,” Clarke replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

    “You’re not,” Raven said firmly. Then, with a sly grin, she added, “Besides, I’m inviting Lexa too. Gotta show off my stellar hospitality skills.”

    Lexa raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her green eyes. “I’m not sure what I’m being invited to.”

    “Nothing fancy,” Raven said with a shrug. “Just a little post-diner hangout. I’ve got a stash of snacks, decent beer, and a couch with your name on it.”

    Lexa hesitated for a beat, her gaze flicking to Clarke, didn't want to interrupt what she now could understand was the blonde's routine. “If Clarke’s alright with it, then sure.”

    Clarke, who had been quietly observing the exchange, shrugged. “It’s fine. Might be nice to unwind.”

    Lexa felt her stupid stomach fluttered at the thought of spending more time with the blonde.

How odd,
---

    The scent of grease and metal greeted them as they stepped into Raven’s workshop. Lexa saw how Clarke's shoulder relaxed when they walked through the mess of the workshop.

    “Home sweet home,” Raven announced, flicking on the lights. The warm glow illuminated the organized chaos of the space. 

    “Upstairs is where the magic happens. Come on.”

    They climbed the narrow staircase to Raven’s apartment above the shop. The small space was cozy, a mix of industrial charm and personal touches. Posters of classic cars adorned the walls, alongside framed photos of Clarke, Raven, and Octavia. A worn couch sat in the center of the room, flanked by mismatched chairs.

    “Make yourselves comfortable,” Raven said, heading to the kitchenette. “I’ll grab some drinks.”

    Clarke  Lexa chose a chair nearby, her posture relaxed but attentive. She held a smile and watched as Clarke sank onto the couch then closed her eyes with a sigh, her head falling back against the cushions. 

    Raven returned moments later, setting three bottles of beer on the coffee table. She plopped down beside Clarke, nudging her gently. “Drink up. It’ll help.”

    Clarke opened one eye, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Beer as medicine? That your new motto?”

    “Works every time,” Raven quipped.
--

    The conversation drifted as they sipped their drinks. Raven carried most of it, sharing stories about her latest projects and teasing Clarke about her stubbornness.

    Lexa, meanwhile, observed quietly, chiming in when prompted. She noticed how Clarke’s tension seemed to ease as the evening went on, her sharp edges softening in the warmth of the space.

    At one point, Raven leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. “You know,” she said, glancing between them, “it’s kinda wild seeing you two together. Like, Clarke doesn’t usually tolerate strangers this well.”

    Clarke shot her a warning look. “Raven.”

    “What? It’s true!” Raven said, grinning. “You hate when people wear perfume, or when they sit too close, or when—”

    “Alright, we get it,” Clarke interrupted, her cheeks flushing slightly.

    Lexa tilted her head, curiosity glinting in her eyes. “You don’t like perfume?” 

    “Not usually,” Clarke admitted, her voice quieter. “It’s... a sensory thing. Some smells are too strong.”

    Raven smirked. “And yet, here you are, sitting next to Lexa like it’s no big deal. She must be magic.”

    Clarke rolled her eyes, but she didn’t deny it. Lexa, for her part, was flattered and tried to hold the proud, cocky smirk off her face. 

    As the night wore on, Lexa felt that intriguing cockiness again when she realized Clarke kept looking at her. There was something about Clarke's restless energy that made her want to smooth that cute frown on Clarke's face. 

    “Alright,” Raven said eventually, standing up and stretching again. “I think that’s enough for tonight. Clarke, you’re crashing here. No arguments.”

    Clarke didn’t protest, too tired to fight. She shot Lexa a small, tired smile. “Thanks for coming along tonight. It was... nice.”

    Lexa nodded, her own smile was soft. “Anytime.”

    As Raven showed Lexa out, she couldn’t resist one last comment. “You know,” she said, glancing back at Clarke, “I think you two might actually get along.”

    Lexa chuckled when heard Clarke groaned, throwing a pillow at the mechanic. 

    When Lexa and Raven was downstairs, the mechanic fixed Lexa with a guarded look. 

    "Thank's for not being weirded out by Clarke's...fixed attention to you," Raven said as they walked to the garage door. 

    "I don't think she is weird. Oddly attentive, yes, but not weird," Lexa responded softly. 

    Raven looked at her again, as if judging Lexa's honesty. 

    "Alright!" She clapped her hands, startling Lexa. 

    "I texted Anya earlier, telling her to pick you up... Oh, there she is!" Raven exclaimed as Anya stepped out of a slick black sport car. 

    "You sure you guys aren't dating?"  Lexa teased when Raven jumped on Anya and kissed her soundly. 

    Anya look at her, and flip her middle finger.

    "Soon, " Lexa heard Raven, and laughed seeing Anya's red face. 

    "Is that a wedding bell I'm hearing? " Lexa teased as she ran and climbed in to the passenger side of Anya's car. 

    "I'll hold you to that, Reyes," Anya stole a kiss and smacked Raven's butt before she ran to her car, and smirked at Raven's gasp, 

    "Just you wait, Woods!" Raven hollered and Lexa laughed and high-fived her cousin.

    It was quiet at first on the drive back to Lexa's place, before Anya broke the silence,

    "Did something good happen? I thought you'd be grumpy and pouting when I pick you up because your car broke down again," 

    Lexa hummed and laughed when Anya nudged her arm, 
    "I met Raven's friend, Clarke," Lexa said and saw Anya's eyes widened,

    "Wow, even I hadn't met the infamous artist yet. You're a lucky bitch," Anya said with a chuckle,
    "So, how was it?" Her cousin asked after a moment of silence,

    "She is nice. Oddly attentive, but cute," Lexa looked at Anya who chuckled,

    "I was talking about your relic of a car, Lex. But I'll keep that in mind, Raven would love to hear how you thought her bestfriend is cute,"

    Lexa blushed and Anya laughed louder now.

    "Good to know you heed my advice to live a little," 

    When they arrived at Lexa's place, Anya only dropped her off and waved a quick goodbye, and told Lexa to rest.

    Lexa, being Lexa, decided to look through her blueprints again.

    As Lexa sat at her desk reviewing blueprints for an upcoming project, her thoughts strayed to the fractured pieces of her past, particularly her marriage to Costia. It had ended not with a dramatic fallout but with the quiet ache of two people realizing they were walking different paths. The dissolution wasn’t sudden—it had crept in over time, like ivy slowly overtaking a wall.

    Costia had always thrived on spontaneity, her energy as unpredictable as the tides. Lexa, in contrast, had sought order and stability, finding comfort in carefully laid plans and long-term goals. What once seemed complementary had eventually become irreconcilable.
    
    She recalled the final conversation vividly. 
    Costia had stood in the doorway, her suitcase packed but her expression softer than Lexa had expected.

    “I can’t live in your perfectly planned world, Lexa,” she had said, voice tinged with regret.

    “I need more. I need freedom to just… be.”

    Lexa hadn’t argued. What could she have said? The words had lodged themselves deep within her, a sharp echo that lingered long after the door closed behind Costia.

    Was I too rigid? Too reserved? Did I leave no room for her to breathe?
    
    The questions haunted her on restless nights, each one chipping away at her confidence. While she had moved on in many ways, the remnants of doubt lingered, weaving themselves into her decisions and interactions.

     As the evening wore on, Lexa set aside the blueprints and made her way to the kitchen. She cradled a cup of tea in her hands and let her gaze drift across the room until it landed on the old photograph of her grandfather. The sepia-toned image sat on a side table, a reminder of simpler times and a man whose wisdom had always grounded her.

    Her fingers brushed the edge of the frame as she whispered into the stillness, “You’d know what to say.”

    Her grandfather had been a man of quiet strength and unshakable certainty, yet he’d always told her that life’s greatest moments came from the unexpected. Lexa often wondered what he would make of her now, with her meticulously planned existence and carefully constructed barriers.

    Anya’s words from earlier that day nudged their way into her thoughts. “You need to live a little, Lex.”

    A faint smile touched Lexa’s lips. Anya always knew how to deliver her truths with blunt precision, but that didn’t make her wrong. Lexa had built a life she could control, one that felt safe, but in doing so, she had locked away something vital—a sense of adventure, a willingness to embrace the unpredictable.

    She took a sip of tea, the warmth spreading through her like a quiet promise. As she prepared for bed, she felt a subtle but undeniable shift within her. It wasn’t quite hope, but something close—a flicker of anticipation, like the opening notes of a song she hadn’t heard before.

    For the first time in a long while, Lexa allowed herself to wonder if the life she’d so carefully constructed could still hold room for something more, or maybe someone with blue eyes that seemed to look right through her.