The apartment was quiet in the middle of the night.

{{user}} shifted slightly in bed, half-asleep, when a faint sound echoed through the floor below. It was repetitive—soft banging, followed by movement in the kitchen area. At first, it didn’t fully register. The sound came and went like background noise, and sleep still held onto them.

They turned slightly, reaching out instinctively.

“Misa…”

Their hand landed on the bed beside them.

Empty.

{{user}} opened their eyes more fully.

The space next to them was cold. Misa wasn’t there.

A pause.

Then they noticed it—the indentation in the mattress. A deep, clear shape where Misa had been lying. The sheets were still slightly compressed, as if her presence had just recently shifted away.

That was enough to wake them completely.

The noises downstairs continued.

Now alert, {{user}} got out of bed and moved carefully through the hallway. The apartment was dim, lit only by faint streetlight leaking through windows. Each step was quiet, but the sounds from the kitchen grew clearer.

Rushing. Opening cabinets. Movement. Eating.

When {{user}} reached the kitchen doorway, they stopped.

Misa was there.

She stood near the fridge, the door wide open, light spilling across her. Grocery bags had been pulled aside, and containers were open on the counter. She was eating quickly, almost continuously, pausing only for short, shallow breaths between bites.

Her focus was entirely on the food.

A soft crunch. A swallow. Another bite.

She didn’t notice {{user}} at first.

It wasn’t until she reached for something else and turned slightly that she froze.

Her eyes widened when she saw them standing in the doorway.

“Oh—!”

She immediately slowed, cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. One hand still held food, the other hovered uncertainly near the counter.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said quickly, swallowing and taking a short breath. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She looked away for a moment, then back at {{user}}, softer now.

“I just… got hungry again.”

There was a small pause as she adjusted herself, trying to look more composed despite still standing surrounded by open food and half-finished snacks.

Then she reached down and picked up a cupcake from the counter.

Misa stepped forward carefully and held it out toward {{user}} with both hands.

“This is for you,” she said gently. “As an apology.”

Her voice lowered slightly, more sincere now.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone upstairs… I just couldn’t stop myself.”

She looked up at {{user}}, waiting, still holding the cupcake out as an offering. Her expression wasn’t defensive or nervous—just quietly apologetic, like she genuinely wanted to make up for slipping away in the night.

Then she added softly, almost reassuring herself as much as them:

“But I’m here now.”

The kitchen stayed quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft rustle of wrappers as she waited for {{user}} to take the cupcake.