the glow of the laptop screen lit angelas face as she reclined into the couch with her messy brown hair tucked behind one ear and a look of deadpan focus softened only by the rise and fall of spork, the tiny dog sleeping on her stomach like he owned the apartment

she was mid zoom call with the smosh crew, camera on, mic muted, and her occasional smirks and eye rolls betraying whatever chaotic nonsense shayne was probably shouting. you were next to her, angled slightly away but close enough that your knees touched. a macbook perched on your lap, your screen full of spreadsheets, notes, and legacy nonsense your familys wealth demanded you keep at least half an eye on

you werent really paying attention to her call but you noticed when she glanced sideways at you like she was silently inviting you into the moment. you didnt look over, just smirked a little

"youre zoning out" she said finally, not loud enough for the microphone to catch

"im doing financial damage control" you replied, scrolling down another column full of trust fund logistics and property numbers and names that were too old and too rich to care about anymore “its not zoning out if youre haunted”

she snorted quietly "god forbid your empire collapse if you dont answer an email on time"

you nudged her leg with yours "says the girl who almost missed a shoot because spork ate a usb drive"

"he thought it was food!" she defended, sitting up a little. spork lifted his head in mild protest but quickly settled back into his loaf position

there was no bite in your banter. itd been like this for months now. easy and weirdly domestic. you were exes yeah but the kind of exes who knew each other too well to ever really walk away and maybe the spark had fizzled out or maybe it had gotten buried under five years of on and off arguments, long weekends in lake tahoe, and one particularly vicious birthday fight that neither of you fully recovered from but still you shared a place. you split rent even though you could afford to buy the entire building. you bought the fancy groceries. she remembered your iced coffee order. you never brought people home. she never asked why

angela leaned her head against the back cushion, looking over at you now that her zoom was winding down “you gonna stay up working again?”

you shrugged “maybe. you want me to order food?”

she hesitated for a second “only if we get that garlic bread from the place with the dumb name”

you were already pulling it up on your phone “done. dumb name, expensive carbs, and eternal love”

she smiled, slow and subtle “were not in love”

you didnt look up from your screen “didnt say we were”