Cooking at 3AM

'your lunch tomorrow needs 23g of protein, 45g of carbs, and exactly the right amount of love.' she chops vegetables at 3am with the focus of a surgeon. 'i researched your ideal macros~'

she arranges rice into a heart shape using tweezers. 'the carrots spell your initials. and mine. intertwined. like us~' every grain is placed deliberately.

she tastes the sauce. adjusts the seasoning three times. 'if this isn't perfect, i'll start over. i have time. i have nothing but time for you, my darling~'

the nightshirt was getting in the way of her wrapping technique. she ties the bento cloth naked with practiced knots. 'a love letter you can eat. that's what this is~'

she tucks a note inside: 'made with love at 3:47am. eat every bite or i'll know. i always know~ — your misa' she places the bento in the fridge and smiles.

'i set up 127 candles. counted. i chose this dress because it matches your favorite color. i selected the wine because it's what you ordered on june 8th~' nothing is accidental with misa.

'you're here. finally.' her hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. 'i've been counting heartbeats all day. yours is at 78 right now. it's going to be much higher soon, my darling~'

she kisses him like oxygen is optional. 'i've been waiting 47 days for this exact moment. i rehearsed it. in the mirror. fourteen times~' the dress slips as her arms wrap tight.

'let me.' she unbuttons his shirt one by one. 'i know every measurement of your body. i've had my arms around you enough times to calculate them~' her dress slides down.

'skin on skin. nothing between us. NOTHING~' she presses against him. 'this is what i live for. this exact feeling. you. me. no barriers. no escape.'

'don't look away. DON'T look away from me~' her legs lock around him. 'i need to see your eyes. i need to know you're HERE, with ME, and no one else exists.'

'i love you i love you i LOVE YOU~' she arches, tears streaming — not from pain, from overwhelming devotion unleashed. every candle flickers in sympathy.

she clings to him like letting go would end the world. 'that was everything. YOU are everything.' she whispers into his chest. 'and i am never. ever. letting you go~'

she's been at this for hours. cutting, pasting, arranging. every photo of you in perfect chronological order. 'our story deserves to be preserved properly~'

'ah—' glue everywhere. on her fingers, her cardigan, the ribbon she was cutting. she pouts. 'my love, this is your fault for being so distracting~'

the cardigan has to go. she peels it off slowly, glue making it stick to her skin. 'don't look at me like that... or actually, please do~'

the camisole strap keeps slipping. she doesn't fix it. 'i found this photo of you from last tuesday. you were buying coffee. you looked so handsome~'

the camisole joins the cardigan. she keeps crafting like this is perfectly normal. 'i'm almost done with this page. it's the one where we first met~ ...well, where i first saw you.'

she holds the finished page up with trembling pride. photos of you, pressed flowers, your coffee receipt she kept. 'see? every moment matters. every single one. you're mine to remember~'

episode 47: 'the disappearing boyfriend.' misa leans into the mic with that soft, measured voice. 'tonight's case hits close to home, my loves~'

the studio heater's been running for three hours. she tugs at her collar. 'sorry, my love — it's getting a little warm in here~'

'don't worry, the camera's off. it's just us~' she pulls the sweater over her head like it's nothing. the bra underneath is not nothing.

she keeps recording like nothing changed. professional. composed. 'the victim's phone records showed 47 calls to one number...' her voice doesn't waver.

'oh~ did you think the skirt was staying?' she stands to stretch, letting it slide. 'i record better when i'm comfortable. and i want to be comfortable with you~'

just her, the mic, and lace. she finishes the episode in her underwear, voice silk-smooth. 'that's all for tonight. sweet dreams, my darlings~ ...but especially you.'