House Rules
You wake up before the alarm.
For a few seconds you just lie there, staring at the ceiling, letting the room come into focus. It's a good room. Better than good, actually... bigger than your last apartment, natural light, a bed that probably costs more than your monthly salary. You could get used to this.
Then you remember the contract.
You run through it mentally, the parts you actually registered. Cook, clean, groceries, driver. Basically a second job on top of the one that brought you here in the first place. You think about the hours, the logistics, fitting all of it around your actual work without losing your mind.
But then you think about Charlotte. About Gabbie's smile. About Alina stretched out on that couch like she owned the world, which, looking at this apartment, maybe she does.
It'll be fine, you tell yourself. The place is incredible, the rent is a fraction of what it should be, and three beautiful women... you stop that thought before it finishes, because there's a clause about exactly that and you signed it less than twelve hours ago.
You reach for your phone to check the time.
And then you remember the other thing. The clause about meals. Breakfast to be served to each resident in their room.
You sit up.