Chapter 6 – Settling in
       
       
       The crimson glow of Hell’s dawn seeped through the tattered blinds of Arturo’s cramped apartment, painting the living room in hues of blood and shadow. Arturo lay sprawled across the couch, his limbs tangled in a threadbare blanket, caught in the hazy limbo between sleep and waking. The past few days had been a blur –Emily’s arrival from Heaven, the curse binding them all tighter than ever, and the simmering tension among the women who orbited his life. He groaned, rubbing his eyes, when a sharp whiff of smoke snapped him upright.
       —Who? —He croaked; his voice rough from sleep—.
       A clatter erupted from the kitchen, followed by a yelp that could only belong to the angelic newcomer. Arturo stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over a stray bottle as he rushed toward the noise. What he found was a scene straight out of a chaotic comedy –one that somehow made his chest tighten with both worry and something softer.
       Emily stood at the stove, her pristine wings faintly singed at the edges, her pale blue robes streaked with soot. She gripped a frying pan like a shield, her wide eyes darting between the small fire licking at the burner and a pile of blackened, unidentifiable mush that might have once been food. A sharp, spicy aroma hung in the air, biting at Arturo’s nose as he took in the carnage.
       —Arturo! —Emily’s voice trembled with relief, though her cheeks flushed a delicate pink beneath the ash smudged across them—. I was trying to make breakfast for you, but… I think I picked the wrong thing.
       Arturo’s gaze landed on a vivid red pepper perched innocently on the counter, its surface glistening with tiny, horn-like protrusions.
       —Is that a Wrathroot pepper? —He asked, incredulous—. Octavia must’ve left it there.. Those things are a fire hazard.
       —I thought it was just a spicy vegetable. —She murmured, her wings drooping slightly—. I wanted to do something nice. To… to show I can be part of this.
       —It is, but…
       Her earnestness hit Arturo like a punch to the gut. He stepped closer, grabbing a damp cloth to smother the flames before they could spread.
       —You don’t have to prove anything. —He said, his tone softening despite the chaos—. After all, it’s my fault that you are here to begin with.
       Emily opened her mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps interrupted her. The rest of the harem spilled into the kitchen, drawn by the commotion like moths to a flame –or, more accurately, to a fire hazard.
       Octavia arrived first, her feathers ruffled from sleep, her sharp eyes widening as she took in the scene.
       Arturo was in shock. Last he remembered everyone returned to their own homes, what kind of timing was this?
       —Emily, are you hurt? —She asked, hurrying to her side with a mix of concern and curiosity—.
       —I’m fine. —Emily assured her, though she clutched the frying pan tighter—. I’m sorry..
       Loona slouched against the doorway, yawning wide enough to flash her fangs.
       —Well, damn. —She drawled, a smirk tugging at her lips—. You really know how to wake up a house, angel.
       “Wake up a house?! I’m the one waking up to five home invaders!” Arturo wanted to scream.
       Stella swept in next, her regal posture undeterred by her rumpled nightgown. She wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell, her voice dripping with disdain.
       —What is this disaster? Are you trying to burn us all out of Arturo’s apartment?
       One ironic comment after the other, Arturo was ready to cry for mercy until Stella’s comment forced him to take a side.
       —She was making me breakfast. —Arturo cut in, shooting Stella a warning glance—. Give her a break.
       Stella huffed, crossing her arms, but her gaze lingered on Emily’s flustered expression, and her lips twitched as if fighting a begrudging smile.
       Verosika sauntered in last, her hips swaying with every step, her succubus allure practically radiating even in the morning light. She leaned against the counter, eyeing the mess with a playful grin.
       —Well, well, look at you, little arson angel. —She purred, her tone teasing—. Trying to heat things up for Arturo already?
       “Heat things up? Is this a new fetish of yours?!” Arturo returned to the scheduled confusion.
       Emily’s blush deepened, her eyes flicking to Arturo, who coughed awkwardly into his fist.
       —She’s just trying to help. —He said, his voice firm but betrayed by the faintest flush creeping up his neck—.
       —Help? —Stella snorted, though her tone softened a fraction—.  She’s lucky she didn’t turn us all into crispy demon toast.
       —I-I didn’t use holy fire, s-so you wouldn’t have burn and-
       Octavia stepped closer to Emily, brushing a strand of ash-streaked hair from her face.
       —Ignore them. —She interrupted gently—. I can show you how to use the stove later. It’s tricky if you’re not used to Hell’s… quirks.
       Emily’s face lit up, her gratitude shining through the soot.
       —Thank you, Princess. I’d really appreciate that!
       Loona pushed off the doorframe, crossing her arms with a lazy grin.
       —Yeah, stick with Octavia. Otherwise, we’re all eating charcoal for the next week.
       The group’s banter swirled around Arturo as he watched Emily relax, her tense shoulders easing under Octavia’s kindness and Loona’s unexpected humour. Verosika caught his eye, winking as if to say she knew exactly what he was thinking –that Emily’s clumsy sincerity was working its way into all their guarded hearts, his included.
       —Alright, everyone out. —Arturo said, clapping his hands to herd them outside—. And stay there.
       As the women filed out, Stella muttered about, Verosika hummed a sultry tune, and Loona snickered –Emily lingered, setting the frying pan down with a sheepish smile. All while Arturo tried to figure out what was going on.
       From his point of view, everyone was acting off-character; Octavia wasn’t as introvert, same with Loona, and Verosika was overly seductive when previously she seemed to act the most mature.
       Could this be a very well-crafted nightmare? Maybe Verosika herself was to blame and this was a plot to bring herself to the spotlight.
       —I’m sorry, Arturo. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. —Emily muttered—.
       He shook his head, took the pan away from her and closed the door on everyone. Sheltering himself inside.
       From the outside, everyone’s voice broke the moment, angry and confused.
       —Arturo! Open the door, now! —Everyone shouted—.
       All, except for Emily, who giggled, the sound bright and melodic, she gently placed her palm on the door while everyone else knocked with rage, coincidentally meeting Arturo’s as he hold the door shut.
       
       ***
       
       This would be temporary, of course, and eventually they all made it back inside, the morning’s mishap lingered in the air –not as a disaster, but as a thread weaving Emily tighter into the messy, unpredictable tapestry of Arturo’s harem.
       The morning’s kitchen fiasco had barely faded when Emily, still stinging from her failed breakfast attempt, resolved to redeem herself. With the harem reluctantly back inside Arturo’s apartment –grumbling and teasing in equal measure –she slipped away from the group, her wings twitching with determination. Arturo slumped onto the couch, rubbing his temples as the women’s voices overlapped in a cacophony of complaints and laughter. He barely noticed Emily’s absence until a faint clatter echoed from the hallway.
       —Emily? —He called, pushing himself up—. What are you doing now?
       —I’m going to clean! —She replied, her voice bright with purpose as she emerged from the closet, clutching a strange, cylindrical object—.
       It resembled a vacuum cleaner, but its surface was etched with jagged runes, and a faint red glow pulsed along its edges.
       —I made a mess earlier, so I want to fix it. It’s the least I can do.
       Arturo’s stomach sank. He recognized that vacuum, Stella brought it in one day; claiming the place looked like a dump –one of Hell’s infamous “Screamers,” a cleaning tool with a temper. Sort of speak.
       —Wait, maybe you shouldn’t-
       It was too late. Emily plugged it in and flicked the switch. The vacuum sprang to life with a deafening, banshee-like screech that shook the walls and sent a stack of papers flying off the coffee table. Emily shrieked in unison, dropping the handle as the machine began to thrash, its cord lashing out like a whip. It sucked up everything in sight –cushions, a stray shoe, even one of Loona’s magazines she had lost (it ended up under the sofa) –while wailing as if auditioning for a horror film.
       —Turn it off! —Arturo shouted, lunging for the cord, but the vacuum dodged him, skittering across the floor like a feral beast—.
       —I don’t know how!
       Emily cried, her wings flaring as she stumbled back, knocking over a chair. Her blue eyes were wide with panic, ash from the earlier fire still smudged across her cheek.
       The noise summoned the harem back into action. Octavia burst in first, her feathers bristling.
       —Oh no, the Screamer! —She exclaimed, darting toward Emily—.  It’s okay, I’ll show you how to stop it!
       Stella stormed in next, her nightgown swishing as she pressed her hands over her ears.
       —What is that racket? —She snapped, though her lips twitched with barely concealed amusement as she watched Emily flail—.
       Loona sauntered in, grinning wide enough to show her fangs.
       —Holy shit, you’re killing it today! —She laughed, flopping onto the couch to enjoy the show—.
       Verosika followed, her hips swaying as she leaned against the wall, smirking.
       Emily’s face flushed crimson, her hands trembling as the vacuum let out another ear-piercing wail and yanked a curtain halfway off its rod.
       —I just wanted to help! —She wailed; her voice nearly lost in the chaos—.
       
       ***
       
       The sudden quiet was deafening. Arturo coughed, waving away the dust as he surveyed the wreckage –overturned furniture, scattered debris, and a thin grey film coating everything. Emily stood frozen, her wings drooping, hands clasped tightly in front of her.
       —I’m so sorry. —She whispered, her voice thick with guilt—. I didn’t know it would do that.
       Octavia stepped closer, brushing dust off Emily’s shoulder.
       —It’s not your fault. —She said gently—. Although I don’t understand what is one of those things doing here either.
       “I may have an idea..” Arturo’s glance reached Stella.
       Stella brushed a speck of dust from her sleeve, her tone sharp but softer than usual.
       —Well, at least it’s off now. Next time, leave the cleaning to someone who knows what they’re doing. —Her gaze flicked to Emily, and for a moment, her stern facade cracked into something almost sympathetic—.
       Emily’s blush deepened, her eyes darting to Arturo.
       —I wasn’t– I didn’t mean–
       Arturo shot everyone a look.
       —Cut it out. She’s had enough for one day. —He turned to Emily, his voice softening—. You’re fine, Emily. You don’t have to keep proving yourself. We’re all figuring this out together.
       Emily met his gaze, her expression softening. For a brief moment, the room’s chaos faded, and Arturo felt that strange warmth in his chest again –part exasperation, part something deeper. She nodded, a small smile breaking through her embarrassment.
       Loona snorted, breaking the moment. Turns out doing that helped everyone else lighten the mood for once; a statement everyone could agree upon.
       The group laughed, the tension dissolving as they started tidying the mess. Octavia stayed by Emily’s side, patiently explaining the quirks of Hellish appliances, while Stella directed the effort with her usual haughty air. Loona and Verosika teamed up, their banter light and surprisingly cooperative, a shift from their usual sniping.
       As they worked, Arturo watched Emily tentatively join in, her earnestness slowly winning over even the prickliest members of the group. Stella’s sharp comments grew less biting, Loona’s laughter less mocking, and Verosika’s teasing more affectionate. Octavia’s quiet support seemed to anchor Emily, and Arturo couldn’t deny the shift in the air –Emily was weaving herself into their chaotic little world, one mishap at a time; or something was off, and he had teleported to some alternative reality.
       But as the room returned to order, Arturo’s mind lingered on the curse binding them all. Emily’s presence was changing things, stirring dynamics he hadn’t anticipated. And though the laughter felt good, he couldn’t shake the sense that more challenges –and more chaos –were waiting just beyond the crimson dawn.
       Maybe it was Emily’s presence the reason everyone was acting odd. Some sort of holy aura that affected those around her. It was either that, or everyone had gone crazy.
       Whichever the reason, the apartment was finally back in order after the vacuum fiasco, though a faint layer of dust still clung to the edges of the room. The normalcy felt tenuous, a brief pause in the storm of chaos that seemed to follow Emily wherever she went. He could hear the women’s voices drifting through the apartment, a mix of teasing, grumbling, and laughter, each adjusting to the angel’s presence in her own way.
       In the kitchen, Octavia lingered near the coffee maker, its twisted pipes now quiet. Emily stood beside her, twisting the hem of her robe between her fingers, still speckled with ash from the morning’s disasters.
       —Want me to show you how to use this thing properly? —Octavia asked, her voice gentle but tinged with a protective edge—. My dad’s a coffee addict so I know a couple of things.
       Emily’s wings twitched with nervous energy as she nodded.
       —I’d love that, Princess. I don’t want to cause any more trouble.
       —You’re not trouble. —Octavia reassured her, guiding Emily’s hands to the levers—. Things just work different here.
       Silence fell between the two for a minute, then Emily continued:
       —So.. All of you are dating him, then?
       —In a way, yeah.
       —Should I date him too?
       —You’ll have to ask Art.
       —How does it work?
       —You mean his curse? Well apparently anyone who meets him falls in love with him; and according to Verosika, the only way to fix it is if he finds who he loves.
       —And when he does?
       —I guess whoever is left has to deal with it..
       —You think he loves you?
       —I.. don’t know…
       Octavia’s smile faltered for a heartbeat, a flicker of unease –jealousy, perhaps, crossing her face as she pondered. The memories of how they met all the way to how the relationship begun.
       It was thanks to Stella that she had him, if she hadn’t stalk him, she wouldn’t have confronted him; causing him to bargain his way towards a polyamorous relationship and so on.
       So, maybe Arturo wasn’t into her enough, or at all. This was the only logical conclusion she could get to when revising the facts –causing her to wonder, could she deal with it if Arturo was to pick someone else? Fear consumed her.
        Arturo noticed and stood, crossing the small kitchen to her side, he could feel her body shaking as panic consumed her. His fingers brushed hers as he reached for a mug, a subtle gesture of reassurance.
       —Everything’s ok, Via?
       Octavia’s feathers smoothed, and she met his gaze with a soft smile.
       —Y-yeah! Just showing Emily how to make coffee. —She replied, her voice steady again—.
       The moment was brief, but the quiet connection lingered.
       
       ***
       
       Later, in the living room, Emily was dusting the shelves with careful precision when her elbow bumped a delicate frame –a picture of Stella and Arturo together; taken during one of their dates. It shattered on the floor with a crystalline crash. Emily gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
       Stella appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowing at the wreckage.
       —What have you done? —She snapped; her voice sharp as the broken shards—.
       —I’m so sorry! —Emily stammered, dropping to her knees to gather the pieces—. I didn’t mean to..
       —To take my place? I let you know I was the first to lay hands on Arturo, he’s mine.
       —But Octavia said-
       —She’s still too young.. He deserves someone who knows what they’re doing.
       —Then why hasn’t he chosen you already?
       Stella flustered, even if the question was genuine; it was like an indirect jab to her ego.
       —Oh, but he will. —Stella laughed a fake laugh—. Word of advice: don’t even bother trying.
       Emily simply nodded in silence, now wondering between Octavia’s explanation and Stella’s claims. Was this part of this so-called love?
       After all, angels did not know love –they simply worshipped God over all things and that was that. But then you have 4 women, all doing the same while fighting one another –it was bound to be confusing.
       Keeping this in mind; Emily simply opted to go somewhere else. Hopefully, fresh air would help her understand.
       
       ***
       
       In the scorched backyard, Loona stretched her arms, grinning at Emily with a spark of mischief as she approached her.
       —Going back to heaven already?
       Emily hesitated, her wings folding tightly as she remained silent.
       —Hey, I’m just teasing you girl. —Loona patted her back—. We are all in this together, aren’t we?
       —What do you mean?
       —You know, Arturo’s curse and all.
       —You don’t sound scared, though.
       —Why should I?
       —Princess Octavia said that only one will keep him, and she looked worried. Miss Stella claims she already won.
       —Pffff… That bitch? —Loona laughed—. She wished.. Nah, listen: The way I understand things, only Arturo can tell who wins and I’m sure he’s not going for that crazy hag any time soon.
       —And if he does?
       Loona lowered her ears for a second. She also couldn’t see herself loosing Arturo, specially not to someone of the likes of Stella.
       Then again, it was thanks to Stella that she now dated Arturo. If she hadn’t recommended him to look for a concubine, she would still be daydreaming about him right now.
       —Well.. you can’t cure bad taste from a guy. That much I know for sure. —Loona’s laugh turned nervous—.
       Emily remained confused as she pieced together everyone’s claims. Octavia cared too much, Loona cared too little, and Stella was too sure –if all of them were supposed to love him, then it made no sense for any to prioritize their own agendas over Arturo’s. Why would they work against each other instead of getting together for a common goal?
       In heaven no one cares who God loves most, everyone knows they are loved equally; for God’s love is infinite.
       Even now, as she processed her emotions towards the accursed hellhound; she could feel God’s love protecting her from harm; so, it was clear that whatever the curse was, it meant no ill intent to any of them.
       
       ***
       
       As evening fell, the group gathered in the living room again, the air thick with takeout scents and overlapping chatter. Having interviewed almost everyone at this point; Emily directed herself to Verosika for what would hopefully be her last clue.
       —Can I help you? —Verosika directed herself to Emily, realising she was being stared at—.
       —Yes.. I mean, I don’t know.. Probably?
       —It’s about his curse is it not?
       —Yes.
       —Not that hard to understand. You meet him, fall in lov-
       —No! I got that already.. I meant-
       —My take in all of this?
       —Pretty much. All of you claim to love him, yet are worried that he might not love you back…
       —That’s love for you, girl. You give too much, then you get nothing in return. They take your shit, get horse riding lessons..
       —Horse riding?
       —I… well… what I’m trying to say is that sometimes love is a one-way street. Most of the times it is…
       —Then why does everyone care who he loves? Wouldn’t it be enough to love him regardless?
       —Wouldn’t you want him to love only you?
       —If that means to be scared of failing, not really.
       —That’s either the most naïve or mature answer I have ever heard.
       —Are you scared, miss Verosika?
       —I mean, a little, I suppose. Would be nice to be loved back for once..
       Verosika looked at Arturo as he played around with the other girls. She was supposed to be there just as an anchor for him to fight against the curse; the voice of reason if you must, sent by Stolas and Blitz. But instead, she was just like everyone else, doing her best to grab the lead at this wicked love race.
       —I really don’t know what love is for your kind, but in Heaven, we all love the Lord, and we know he loves us; no favourite and without showing affection. That’s more than enough for us.
       —You almost make it sound so easy…
       Eventually, the night ended. But uncertainty remained in everyone’s heart. Who would reign victorious? Who would bite the dust? No way to answer that just yet. Only time would tell.
       —Oh, hell no! Everyone’s going home! Now! —Arturo shouted, once more ordering everyone to leave—.
       —And what about the Seraph? —Stella asked—. You can’t expect us to leave her with you.
       —I-I could hide in the human world.. No one would notice me.
       —Works for me. Now beat it! Everyone!
       
       ***
       
       The crimson haze of Hell’s evening lingered outside Arturo’s apartment, casting jagged shadows through the cracked blinds. The living room was finally quiet, the echoes of the day’s chaos fading into a tenuous stillness. Arturo slumped on the couch, his head tipped back, eyes half-closed as he savoured the rare moment of solitude. The others had scattered –Octavia to her father, Stella to her brother, Loona to Blitz, and Verosika to her own place. Emily, too, had slipped away. But the silence felt heavy, weighted with questions he couldn’t shake.
       He rubbed his temples, the faint scent of burnt Wrathroot pepper still clinging to the air. Emily’s earnest blunders replayed in his mind –her wide-eyed panic, her soot-streaked determination. She was an anomaly, a seraph flung into Hell’s mess, and yet she’d stayed. Why? The curse had snared her, just as it had the others, but there was something different about her presence –something that stirred both warmth and unease in his chest. He groaned, dragging a hand through his fur as he remembered the moment they met. He didn’t understand much about the extermination’s politics –he didn’t even know there were, so much of what she said had fallen onto deaf ears with him.
       By proxy, her quest was somewhat of a fool’s errand or made-up excuse to stay. To some extent, even the girls agreed at the time, saying she only chose him due to the curse.
       A curse meant to teach him a lesson about love.. how does a war between hell and heaven even tie onto this?
       “This is my life now, isn’t it?” —Arturo wondered to himself—.
       A faint rustle broke his reverie. He glanced up to see Emily standing in the bedroom’s doorway, her wings tucked tightly against her back, her robes still faintly dusted with ash. She clutched a small paper bag, her blue eyes flickering with hesitation.
       —I thought you were hiding in the human world. —Arturo said, sitting up straighter—.
       —I was. —She replied softly, stepping inside—. But I… I wanted to come back. I got you something, too.
       She held out the bag, her fingers trembling slightly. —It’s just tea. I thought it might help after… everything.
       Arturo took the bag.
       —Thanks. —He said, his voice softening despite himself—. You didn’t have to.
       —I wanted to. —She insisted, perching on the edge of the couch. Her wings twitched, betraying her nerves—. I’ve caused so much trouble today. I just… I don’t want you to think I’m trouble.
       He set the tea aside, meeting her gaze.
       —I don’t think that. If anything, I should be the one saying that kind of stuff. —Arturo chuckled—.
       Her lips curved into a small, grateful smile, but it faded quickly.
       —Why?
       Ever since he talked about the curse to the girls, Arturo felt a weight leave his chest; and Emily’s angelic presence seemed to lift even more of it. It was no surprise he would let his guard down and speak his mind.
       —When we met, you said you came to hell because you believe that the extermination wasn’t God’s will. Then you met me, the curse reached you and-
       Emily stared at the floor as he talked, her hands twisting together in her lap. The crimson light painted her grey skin in soft hues, her white freckles glowing faintly like stars against ash. Hell was nothing like Heaven –no clarity, no certainty, just a chaotic swirl of emotions she couldn’t name. The day had been a whirlwind of mishaps, each one chipping away at her resolve, yet here she was, back in Arturo’s cluttered apartment, drawn by something she didn’t fully understand.
       In Heaven, love was a singular truth –a radiant, unshakable devotion to God. It was simple, eternal, a light that needed no questioning. But here, love was a tangled mess –fierce and fragile, loud and quiet all at once. The curse had woven its threads around her, just as it had Octavia, Stella, Loona, and Verosika, but the more she tried to unravel it, the deeper it pulled her in. She glanced at Arturo, his hazel eyes flecked with red, watching her with a mix of concern and exhaustion. That flutter in her chest returned, warm and unsteady, and she pressed a hand to it, as if she could hold it still.
       —Did it? —She murmured; barely aware she’d spoken aloud—. The curse I mean, did it affect me?
       Arturo blinked, caught off guard.
       —Uh… I think so, yes. —He said after a moment, leaning back—. Why else would you stop for us back there?
       Her wings sagged slightly.
       —I told you, to bridge the divide between Heaven and Hell. —She reminded him—. And I admit, I do feel a little different with you, but I don’t know if what I feel is the curse you mention. I love God, how different can it be from loving others?
       Arturo’s mind cluttered with different answers. What she probably thinks is love sounded more like devotion to him. Then again, he wondered if he should even tell her that.
       Or worse; if her definition of love was such, then probably she saw his ordeal amusing and was just there as a form of childish entertainment.
       And realistically, both were simply his self-doubt talking for him once more. 
       Meanwhile, Emily’s thoughts churned. She recalled the photo from earlier –Arturo and Stella, a moment that felt worlds away. The others had their own histories with him, their own claims, and now she was here, an outsider stumbling into their chaos. Could she really belong? In Heaven, there were no doubts, no rivalries –just unity. But here, love seemed to demand something more –something raw and uncertain. She wanted to believe her feelings were hers, not just the curse’s echo, but the fear lingered: what if they weren’t?
       —I don’t see myself as a puppet. —She whispered, her voice trembling—. I want to know if this.. is mine to feel.
       Arturo’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
       —I get it. Believe me, I do. I’ve been asking myself the same thing since this started.
       She met his eyes, searching for answers he couldn’t give.
       —Do you think it’s possible? That something real could come out of this?
       —Maybe. —He said quietly—.
       Her wings trembled, and she hugged herself, the weight of her doubt pressing down. Heaven had been a sanctuary of certainty; Hell was a labyrinth of questions. Yet, despite the confusion, she couldn’t deny the pull she felt –not just toward Arturo, but toward this strange, fractured group. Maybe love here wasn’t about clarity. Maybe it was about choosing to stay, even in the dark.
       Arturo watched Emily, her small frame hunched with uncertainty, and a pang of guilt twisted in his gut. She didn’t deserve this –the curse, the chaos, the doubt. None of them did, but Emily especially felt like a bird caught in a storm, her wings too fragile for Hell’s jagged edges. He ran a hand through his fur, searching for words that wouldn’t sound hollow.
       —You okay? —He asked, his voice low, careful not to push—.
       She nodded, but her eyes betrayed her –shimmering with a quiet turmoil he recognized too well.
       —I think so. —She said, forcing a smile—. Just… trying to figure it all out.
       He shifted closer, the bed creaking under his weight.
       —You don’t have to figure it out alone. —He said—. I mean, I’m not exactly an expert on this stuff, either. But you got us.
       Her gaze flicked to him, gratitude mingling with something deeper.
       —Thank you, Arturo. That means a lot.
       He scratched the back of his neck, awkward under her sincerity.
       —Yeah, well… I just don’t want you beating yourself up over this. The curse –it’s my mess, not yours.
       —But it’s mine now, too. —She said softly—. I chose to stay.
       That hit him harder than he expected. She’d chosen this –chosen him, or at least the tangled mess he came with. He studied her, the ash still smudged on her cheek, the earnest tilt of her head, and felt that warmth flare again –stronger this time, tinged with worry. The curse had a way of blurring lines, but Emily’s presence was sharpening something in him, a need to protect her from its fallout.
       —Look. —He said, his tone firm but gentle—. I don’t know what’s real either. But you don’t have to prove anything to me. Got it?
       Emily’s eyes softened, a faint shimmer of tears she quickly blinked away.
       —I just don’t want it to be fake. —She admitted—. It tingles, and makes me happy, sad too; but the kind of sad you are happy to feel. And I don’t want it to go away.
       He reached out, hesitating before resting a hand on hers. Her skin was cool against his warmth, a quiet contrast that steadied him.
       She turned her hand, lacing her fingers with his, and the gesture felt impossibly natural.
       Arturo’s breath hitched, his mind racing. What if he hurt her?
       She laughed, a bright, melodic sound that cut through the gloom. 
       —I never expected hellborn to be so sentimental.
       He squeezed her hand, a small, unguarded smile tugging at his lips.
       —That makes two of us.
       —Guess so. —She echoed, her smile mirroring his—.
       The room settled into a softer silence, the weight of their words lingering between them. Arturo couldn’t shake the concern tightening his chest –Emily was changing things, stirring the fragile balance of his life, but for the first time, he didn’t mind the chaos. Maybe, just maybe, there was something worth finding in the mess.
       Outside, Hell’s crimson sky deepened, the shadows stretching longer across the floor. Inside, the tea sat forgotten on the table, its quiet promise of calm overshadowed by the growing bond between a cursed hellhound and an angel who refused to fly away. Instead, resting side by side with her newfound lover, uniting to find out the light hidden in the dark. Fur and feather wrestling together gently.
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