Perfect Balance

    The rest of the week after Clarke’s meltdown at the bar passed without incident. She stuck to her routines, finding solace in the predictability of her daily schedule, Juno was also included in the routines now. The kitten's presence provide unexpected comfort for Clarke. Feeding time, playtime, were one she looked forward to now.

    The days blurred together in a rhythm that was comfortable—if not particularly exciting. But there was one change: Lexa.

    It started with a message on Tuesday evening.

    Lexa: Thought you might appreciate the creativity.

    Attached was a picture of a blueprint with a poorly drawn smiley face scribbled in the margins.

    Clarke stared at it for a moment before typing back.

    Clarke: Ridiculous.

    Lexa’s reply came almost immediately: But effective. Look, you’re smiling.

    Clarke wasn’t sure what to make of the exchange. It was unexpected, like Lexa herself. But as the week went on, their texts became more frequent, and always at the same time.

    Little things—observations from their respective days, comments about movies or books. It was easy, even for Clarke, who found social interaction exhausting most of the time. Lexa didn’t demand much, and Clarke appreciated the lack of pressure.

    Saturday was Clarke’s sanctuary, a day reserved for herself. She spent the morning at her gallery-studio, losing herself in the comforting chaos of brushes, canvases, and vibrant paints. By mid-afternoon, she was at Raven’s workshop, her usual haunt on Saturdays.

    She was having a quiet conversation with Raven when rumble of an engine announced a new arrival. Clarke glanced toward the open bay doors. Despite knowing from Lexa  when she texted her earlier at their fixed texting time about going to Raven's to get a look at Anya's car, her stomach tightening slightly as she saw Lexa step out of the passenger seat of a sleek car, followed by Anya.

    Clarke’s heart did an odd little flip, a reaction she wasn't ready to unpack. Lexa didn’t seem fazed to see her there—it was as though she had already pieced together that this was part of Clarke’s routine.

    Lexa’s smile was easy, her focus naturally drawn to Clarke. “Hey,” she said, her tone warm but unassuming.

    Clarke nodded back, her response clipped but polite. “Hi.”

    Lexa didn’t press her. Instead, she turned her attention to Raven and Anya, casually discussing whatever issue had brought them to the workshop. Clarke was relieved but also unsettled—Lexa’s quiet presence wasn’t intrusive, but it was hard to ignore.

    As the conversation flowed around her, Clarke stayed silent, listening but not joining in. She didn’t want to make Lexa uncomfortable with her discomfort, but she also wasn’t ready to engage fully.

    Lexa seemed to sense this. She didn’t push, didn’t demand Clarke’s attention. Instead, she spoke naturally, her voice even and calm, as if letting Clarke acclimate to her presence.

    It was strange, but Clarke felt her anxiety ebbing. Lexa’s tone was soothing, her words steady without being condescending.

---

    From Lexa’s side, the feeling was just as strange. She had spent most of the week thinking about Clarke. It wasn’t something she was used to—after her divorce from Costia, her life had been consumed by work. But now, her thoughts kept drifting to the blonde with the rare laugh and sharp wit.

    Lexa was a good observer, a skill honed through years of architectural training. She’d noticed Clarke’s quirks, the small signs of discomfort in certain situations. She didn’t know the specifics, but she didn’t need to. Clarke would tell her if and when she trusted her, and Lexa found herself wanting to earn that trust.

    When she saw Clarke at the workshop, Lexa’s smile grew wider, more carefree. She’d hoped Clarke would be there when she texted Clarke earlier about going to Raven's to get Raven fix Anya's car.

    “Don’t look so excited,” Anya teased, her tone laced with dry humor.

    Lexa shrugged, her expression unbothered. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m here to fix a car, not attend a funeral.”

    Anya rolled her eyes but smirked knowingly.

---

    Clarke’s quiet observation continued, but Raven and Octavia weren’t about to let things slide unnoticed. Octavia who also needed her patrol car checked, arrived halfway through Anya's car inspection, immediately picking up on the tension—or lack thereof—between Clarke and Lexa.

    “So,” Octavia said, leaning casually against the workbench, “you two seem cozy.”

    Clarke shot her a look. “Don’t start.”

    Raven grinned. “Oh, come on, Clarke. Lexa’s obviously interested.”

    Clarke groaned, but her cheeks betrayed her, flushing faintly. “She’s not. She’s just… nice.”

    Lexa, who had been scrutinizing Raven as the mechanic worked on the car beside Anya, glanced over, and smirked, “I am still here, you know.”

    The comment earned a laugh from Raven and Octavia, who exchanged conspiratorial looks.

    “See? She’s nice and has good hearing,” Raven teased.

    Clarke rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She turned to Lexa, suddenly curious despite herself. “You’re an architect, right?”

    Lexa nodded, straightening. “I am.”

    Clarke hesitated, then added, “I like drawing. I mean, obviously.” She gestured vaguely, as if her career as an artist wasn’t proof enough. “I’d like to see your designs sometime.”

    Lexa’s expression softened. “I’d like that. Maybe we can trade—your paintings for my blueprints.”

    “Deal,” Clarke said before she could second-guess herself.

    Later, as the group lingered, Raven and Octavia continued their relentless teasing.

    “So,” Raven began, her grin widening with realization, “how long have you two been texting?”

    Clarke stiffened, her gaze darting toward Lexa, who looked just as caught off guard.

    Octavia smirked. “Oh, this is good. Clarke, are you blushing?”

    “Enough,” Clarke said, her tone sharp but not angry. She paused, her expression carefully neutral, before firing back with a sarcastic edge. “You’re just jealous you can’t handle someone as interesting as Lexa.”

    The table fell silent for a beat before bursting into laughter. Lexa, caught in the crossfire, chuckled quietly, her ears tinged pink.

    “Touché,” Raven said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

    Clarke allowed herself a small, victorious smile.

---

    By the time the evening ended, on the way home from Octavia's bar, Clarke found herself thinking about Lexa more than she wanted to admit on the way home from Octavia's ba. The architect’s steady presence was comforting in a way she hadn’t expected, and the easy rhythm of their conversations had started to feel like a new routine.

    As Clarke lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she replayed the day’s events in her mind. Lexa’s humor, her calm energy, and the way she never pushed too hard. Clarke wasn’t sure what it all meant, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t mind the addition to her carefully crafted world.

--

    Clarke’s alarm buzzed at 7:00 AM, and she groaned softly, reaching over to switch it off. A tiny meow came from the corner of the bed, where her kitten, Juno, stretched lazily before padding over to nuzzle against her side. “Good morning to you too,” Clarke muttered, scratching behind the kitten’s ears.

    The morning unfolded at its usual pace: a quick shower, a light breakfast, and a check to make sure Juno’s carrier was ready for the trip. Juno, however, seemed content to lounge in the sunbeam streaming through the window until Clarke gently coaxed her into the carrier.

    By 8:45, Clarke was locking the door to her apartment, Juno letting out a tiny protest from her spot in the passenger seat. “Don’t worry, it’s just a quick drive,” Clarke reassured her, reaching over to adjust the carrier.

    The drive was smooth and unhurried, with the faint hum of the radio filling the car. Clarke had chosen an upbeat playlist for the morning, though she wasn’t really paying attention to the lyrics. Every now and then, she glanced at Juno in her carrier, where the kitten was quietly observing the passing scenery through the mesh.

    “You’re being very well-behaved,” Clarke said, as if the kitten could understand her. A soft meow was Juno’s only response. Clarke smiled, her chest warming with affection. It was strange how much the little ball of fur had already meant to her.

    She turned into her parents’ driveway, the house a familiar sight with its neatly trimmed hedges and flower beds bursting with color. Jake was already outside, watering the plants, and he waved when he saw her car.

    “Morning, kiddo!” Jake called as she stepped out of the car. His grin widened when she held up the carrier. “And who’s this little troublemaker?”

    “This is Juno,” Clarke said, setting the carrier down on the porch so Jake could peer inside. “She’s my new roommate. Doesn’t pay rent, but she makes up for it with cuteness.”

    Jake chuckled, crouching down to get a better look. “Well, hello there, Juno. You’re going to have to teach Clarke some responsibility, you know that?”

    “Dad,” Clarke groaned, picking up the carrier. “She’s already doing that. You wouldn’t believe how much kitten-proofing I’ve had to do this week.”

    Abby, hearing their banter, appeared in the doorway, a dish towel in hand. “Clarke! And Juno! Come in, come in. Coffee’s ready.”

    Once inside, Clarke set Juno down on the living room floor, letting the kitten explore. Abby knelt to watch as Juno batted at the edge of the rug, her little tail twitching with excitement.

    “She’s adorable,” Abby said, her voice soft. “How’s she settling in?”

    “She’s a menace,” Clarke replied, though her tone was fond. “She’s figured out how to climb my curtains, and she’s already chewed through one of my phone chargers. But she’s also the best thing to happen to me in a while.”

    Jake raised an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Better than Raven bringing home that karaoke machine last Christmas?”

    Clarke snorted, shaking her head. “Way better. At least Juno doesn’t try to sing ABBA at full volume.”

    The room filled with laughter, the kind that came easily between family.

---

    As they sat in the cozy living room, the warm sunlight streaming through the curtains, Clarke found herself nervously fidgeting with her coffee mug. Juno had curled up on Jake’s lap, purring contentedly, as he absentmindedly scratched behind her ears. Abby sat across from Clarke, her eyes sharp but gentle, sensing that her daughter had more to say.

    “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” Clarke began, her voice quieter now, a stark contrast to the lighthearted conversations earlier. She hesitated, then looked at Jake and Abby. “I… kind of had a meltdown at the bar on Monday.”

    Jake immediately put down his coffee, concern flickering across his face. “What happened, Clarke?”

    Clarke took a deep breath. “It wasn’t anything major,” she said quickly, trying to reassure him. “The place got really crowded, and it was just… overwhelming. Everything felt too loud, too close. I couldn’t breathe for a minute.”

    Abby’s hand flew to her chest, worry evident. “Clarke—”

    “I’m okay, Mom,” Clarke interrupted, her tone firmer now. “I promise. Raven noticed something was off and got me outside before it got worse. Octavia showed up not long after.” She hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. “And Lexa was there too. She helped me calm down.”

    Jake leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “How did they help you?”

    “They didn’t push me,” Clarke explained, her voice soft but steady. “They just stayed with me. Raven and Octavia kept watch from afar to make sure I have my space. But Lexa…” She paused, searching for the right words. “She didn’t say much. She just… stayed close. Her calmness made it easier to find my own.”

    Jake nodded slowly, his concern giving way to admiration. “I’m proud of you, Clarke. For recognizing what you needed and letting them help you. That’s not easy to do.”

    Clarke’s throat tightened at his words, a wave of relief washing over her. “Thanks, Dad. It wasn’t easy, but I think I’m learning to handle it better.”

---
    The conversation shifted naturally, but Clarke could feel her parents’ gazes lingering on her. Abby was the first to speak, her voice gentle. “Lexa sounds like she handled things well. Do you trust her? ”

    Clarke blinked, surprised by the question. “I guess I do,” she admitted. “I didn’t think about it at the time, but she made it easy. I didn’t feel the same kind of discomfort around her that I usually do with… people.”

    Abby tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Clarke. “That’s not nothing, you know. It’s rare to feel that kind of ease with someone.”

    Clarke shrugged, trying to downplay the flutter of emotions rising in her chest. “She’s just… a calm person. It’s nice.”

    Jake chuckled softly, his tone teasing but not unkind. “Sounds like you’re pretty fond of her.”

    Clarke’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she waved a hand dismissively. “Dad, it’s not like that.”

    Abby’s smile was knowing but kind. “Are you sure? Because it sounds like you’ve been thinking about her a lot.”

    Clarke opened her mouth to deflect again, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she looked down at her coffee, her blush deepening. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “Maybe I have.”

    The confession seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders, but a new one quickly settled in its place. She set her mug down on the coffee table, her fingers nervously twisting together. “I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for anything more than friendship. And what if—what if I’m too much for her? My quirks, my anxieties, boundaries… I know they’re not easy to deal with.”

    Jake exchanged a glance with Abby, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Clarke, listen to me. If Lexa’s the right person, she won’t see your quirks as something to ‘deal with.’ She’ll see them as part of what makes you… you.”

    Abby nodded, her voice gentle but firm. “And if she doesn’t? Then she’s not the right person for you, and that’s okay too. What matters is that you’re happy and comfortable, whether that’s with her or on your own.”

    Clarke swallowed hard, her throat tightening again. “It’s just hard not to overthink it. I don’t want to mess this up.”

    “You’re not going to mess anything up by being yourself,” Jake said, his voice steady. “And it’s okay to take things slow. No one’s asking you to have all the answers right now.”

    Abby reached out tentatively, placing a hand on Clarke’s knee after the blonde nodded her consent, “Give yourself time, sweetheart. Let yourself feel things without overanalyzing them. If Lexa’s the person you think she is, she’ll wait.”

    Clarke nodded slowly, her chest feeling a little lighter. “Thanks, guys. I needed to hear that.”

    The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, but the warmth and reassurance lingered.

---
    The park was alive with laughter and the sound of children playing. The crisp air carried the scent of blooming flowers, and the sun cast a warm glow over the family as they strolled down the paved pathway. Juno trotted alongside Clarke, occasionally batting at fallen leaves, her tiny bell jingling with each pounce.

    Clarke was back to being unusually talkative that afternoon, her voice carrying a hint of lightness. “So, get this,” she said, gesturing animatedly as they found a shaded bench near the pond. “On Wednesday, Lexa shows up to the site in these perfectly pressed clothes, right? Total professional. But by the end of the day when she sent me a selfie, she looks like she’s been rolling around in a sandbox.”

    Jake let out a hearty laugh. “An architect who’s not afraid to get her hands dirty? Sounds like a keeper.”

    Abby, ever the observer, arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smile. “And you noticed all of this, did you?”

    Clarke rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed slightly. “How could I not? She’s covered in dust. I told her she might as well invest in a wardrobe made of beige.”

    Jake laughed harder, shaking his head. “I like her already. She sounds like someone who knows how to get things done.”

    “She does,” Clarke admitted, her tone softening. “She’s not just about the designs; she actually listens to people—her team, the contractors. It’s like she wants everyone to feel like they’re part of something, not just following orders.”

    Abby caught the shift in Clarke’s voice and exchanged a knowing glance with Jake. “That’s a rare quality,” Abby said, her tone gentle. “It sounds like you admire her.”

    Clarke shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “She’s… okay,” she said, focusing on Juno, who had hopped onto the bench and was batting at Jake’s shoelaces.

    Jake grinned, leaning back. “Just okay, huh?”

    “Can we not make this a thing?” Clarke groaned, though there was no real irritation in her voice. “I’m just saying she’s good at what she does. That’s all.”

    The rest of the afternoon was spent in easy companionship. They wandered through the park, stopping to let Juno explore patches of grass. Clarke even indulged in a rare moment of silliness, chasing Juno when the kitten made a sudden dash toward a flock of pigeons. Jake captured the moment on his phone, laughing as Clarke scooped up the mischievous feline.

    When they returned to the house, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the living room in a soft amber glow. Clarke was about to suggest another round of coffee when Abby’s phone buzzed on the counter.

    Abby sighed as she glanced at the screen. “It’s the hospital,” she said, her tone apologetic and took the call. 

    “I’m sorry, Clarke. They need me to come in. I hate to cut our day short,” she said after the call ended.

    Clarke waved it off with a small smile. “It’s okay, Mom. You’re the best doctor they’ve got—go save some lives.”

    Abby hesitated, her eyes searching Clarke’s face. “Are you sure? I know we usually spend the whole day together…”

    Clarke gave a dramatic shrug, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “I’m an adult, remember? A small change won’t kill me. Besides, you’re doing something important.”

    Abby chuckled, though her eyes softened with pride. “You’ve grown up so much, Clarke.”

    As Abby turned to grab her coat, Clarke surprised everyone by stepping forward and pulling her into a loose hug. It wasn’t quick or perfunctory—Clarke held on for a moment longer than usual, her arms firm around her mother.

    Abby froze briefly, caught off guard, but quickly recovered, caressing Clarke's back gently in return. “What was that for?” Abby asked, her voice soft, touched.

    Clarke pulled back, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “Nothing. Just… don’t work too hard, okay?”

    Abby smiled, her heart swelling. She reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Clarke. You’re making progress every day, and it shows. Don’t forget that.”

    Clarke looked away, her lips twitching into a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah. Go save lives before I start regretting the hug.”

    Jake watched the exchange silently, his own chest tight with emotion. As the door closed behind Abby, he turned to Clarke, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re really surprising me today, kid.”

    Clarke rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t get used to it, Dad.”

--

    The kitchen filled with the aroma of garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil. Clarke stood at the counter, her movements precise and methodical as she diced vegetables. Beside her, Jake worked on seasoning chicken, occasionally sneaking glances at her.

    “You know,” Jake said casually, “this reminds me of the time you insisted on making spaghetti for the family when you were ten. Except back then, the kitchen looked like a crime scene.”

    Clarke paused, her lips twitching upward. “I didn’t have YouTube tutorials back then,” she quipped, carefully aligning the carrots she was slicing into even strips.

    Jake chuckled, picking up a bell pepper. “True, but you didn’t seem to care that half the sauce ended up on the ceiling. Your mom still talks about that stain.”

    Clarke let out a quiet laugh, a sound Jake always cherished for its rarity. “I was experimenting,” she said, her tone mock-defensive. “Besides, I’ve gotten better. Look—perfect slices.” She gestured to the array of vegetables on the cutting board, arranged by size and color.

    Jake leaned over, inspecting her work with an exaggerated squint. “Impressive. Almost too perfect. Are you auditioning for a cooking show or something?”

    Clarke rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her faint smirk. “It’s called being thorough, Dad. You should try it.”

    As they continued working, Jake suddenly said, “Why don’t oysters donate to charity?”

    Clarke froze mid-chop, already bracing for the punchline. “Why?” she asked flatly, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

    “Because they’re shellfish.”

    Clarke groaned, her head dropping slightly as she muttered, “Why do you do this?”

    Jake grinned. “Because it makes you laugh, even when you pretend it doesn’t.”

    Clarke snorted, unable to suppress the sound. “Fine. One point to you,” she conceded, her tone dry but affectionate.

---

    As they sat down to eat, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Jake asked more about Juno, and Clarke told him about the kitten’s latest antics, her eyes lighting up as she described how Juno had tried to pounce on her shoelaces earlier.

    Jake listened intently, his focus unwavering, which Clarke appreciated more than she could say. It wasn’t often that she felt comfortable rambling, but Jake had a way of making her feel heard without interrupting or rushing her.

    “You’ve been talking a lot more lately,” Jake observed as they finished their meal, his tone casual but warm.

    Clarke froze for a fraction of a second before shrugging. “Maybe. I guess I’ve had more to say.”

    Jake leaned back in his chair, studying her. “It’s nice. I’ve missed hearing you talk about what’s on your mind.”

    Clarke didn’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on her plate. “It’s not like I didn’t want to. It’s just… I don’t always know how to explain things.”

    Jake nodded, his expression softening. “I get that. But you don’t have to explain everything, sometimes just saying what’s on your mind is enough.”

    Clarke hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Thanks, Dad.”

---

    The drive home was quiet, the city lights casting a soft glow on the windshield. Clarke’s fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, a subtle rhythm that matched the song playing on the radio.

    She replayed the day in her mind, her thoughts coming in vivid snapshots: Juno batting at Jake’s shoelaces, Abby’s knowing smile when Clarke talked about Lexa, and the warmth of her father’s steady presence.

    Clarke noticed the way her muscles felt looser, her chest lighter. Usually, after family visits, she’d feel drained from trying to keep up with conversations or worrying about saying the wrong thing. But today had been different.

    She thought back to her dad’s comment about her talking more. It wasn’t the first time someone had pointed it out, but this time, it didn’t make her feel self-conscious. Instead, it felt like progress.

    Her thoughts turned to Lexa, unbidden but welcome. Lexa’s calm demeanor and easy smile flashed in her mind, and Clarke found herself smiling softly in return.

    “Maybe I’m not as stuck as I thought,” she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

    Juno meowed from her carrier in the passenger seat, as if in agreement. Clarke glanced over, her smile widening.

    “Yeah, maybe,” she said, her voice a little louder this time.

    By the time she pulled into her apartment complex, the sky was a deep navy, dotted with stars. Clarke carried Juno upstairs, her steps lighter than they’d been in a long time. She set the kitten down and watched as Juno immediately stretched her body then scampered off to chase a stray thread from the rug.