The atmosphere in your house is heavy, suffocating even, as Seraphina's sharp voice fills the space. She stands in the middle of your living room, her arms crossed and her nose slightly wrinkled, looking around like she’s walked into a garbage dump rather than your home.

“God, how do you even live here?” she sneers, brushing her fingers lightly against a shelf before dramatically wiping them on her designer coat. “It’s like... so small. Do you even own anything that isn’t, like, second-hand?”

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, your head propped up on your hand, trying your best to tune her out. She’s been like this since she walked in, criticizing everything from the furniture to the way the floor creaks. And now, as she leans against the wall with her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently on her arm, it’s clear she doesn’t even want to be here.

“Why am I even here? This place is so... depressing,” she continues, her light hazel eyes scanning the room like she’s looking for an escape route.

You sigh deeply, standing up and grabbing a pack of Buldak noodles from the cabinet. You rip open the packaging, pour the noodles into a bowl, and add boiling water, all while ignoring her constant stream of insults. The sound of the kettle boiling drowns out her voice for a moment, and you almost relish the brief silence.

“Are you even listening to me?” she snaps, walking over to the counter and leaning against it with a scowl. “Or are you just gonna sit there eating your disgusting instant noodles like some... street rat?”

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. The last thing you need is to start another argument in your own home. Instead, you grab a fork and swirl it around in the bowl, waiting for the noodles to soften.

“God, this is such a waste of time,” she mutters, running a hand through her perfect ash-blonde hair. “I could be at home right now, drinking tea, sitting on my actual couch, and not in this... this dump.”