I Cleaned His Fridge For Three Years For Nothing Chapter 05

I Cleaned His Fridge For Three Years For Nothing Chapter 05

The airplane climbed high above the clouds, a hollow ache twisting in my stomach.

I thought back to my very first flight, when I’d traveled with Kai to an out-of-state design competition.

He’d hunched over his drafting papers the whole ride, while I squeezed my hands tight from

nerves.

He never lifted his eyes once. “Don’t panic, I’ve got you.”

That single sentence had carried me through years of loneliness.

Somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten I was capable of landing safely all on my own.

Marnie’s Rest Retreat sat tucked down a narrow alley just outside Willowspire’s old town, with

Cedar Lake visible from the courtyard.

The owner, Marnie Boone, spoke slowly and gently, a retired vintage stylist with endless patience.

She flipped through my portfolio, then glanced at the stack of old design books I’d brought along,

and smiled softly.

“You’re not just here looking for a job. You’re here to find pieces of yourself you lost along the

way.”

Her words caught me off guard, and I agreed to stay on as her resident stylist.

The pay was modest, but lodging was included.

My daily tasks kept me busy: mending linen fabrics, refinishing antique oak cabinets, styling guest suites, and sometimes helping out in the kitchen with vanilla roasted cream tartlets.

My first night, I moved into a small second-floor bedroom.

A stretch of Cedar Lake was visible right outside my window.

The wind carried the warm scent of aged timber and wild local flowers.

I powered my phone back on, and Kai’s texts flooded my inbox one after another.

[Where are you?]

[I smoothed things over with the firm, just come home.)

(My mom’s sick with worry over you.]

[Sage, don’t throw your whole future away on some reckless impulse.]

The last message arrived much later.

[I stopped by your parents’ house. They said you left town. Tell me where you went.]

I didn’t send a single reply.

Elara’s messages piled up too.

[Sage, I’m so sorry I never imagined the firm would fire you over this.]

[I went to talk the clients down, but Kai told me to drop it-said the whole issue was resolved

already.]

[Please don’t cut me off, I’m terrified I’ve ruined everything between us.]

I stared at the word terrified for a long time, then locked my phone screen dark.

Early the next morning, a guest dragged his suitcase through the courtyard gate.

His face was pale as paper, and he stumbled to grab the front desk edge for support the second he stepped inside.

Marnie called out to me. “Sage, give him a hand.”

I rushed over just as his legs gave out, sliding him to the floor, cold sweat coating his forehead.

“My medication… it’s in my suitcase…”

I rummaged through his luggage and spotted the pill bottle, my body reacting faster than my brain could process the situation.

I laid him flat, unbuttoned his collared shirt, dialed the local emergency services line, and handed him his dosage as he instructed.

Until the ambulance arrived, he kept a loose grip wrapped around my wrist.

His hold was light, but he clung to me like I was the only solid thing left in the world.

I learned his name was Rhys Hale once he regained consciousness.

He’d recently undergone open-heart surgery and traveled to Willowspire to recover and rest.

When he woke up fully, his first line to me was quiet and wry.

“Thank you. I thought I’d end up stiffing Marnie on the room bill before the day ended.”

I stared at him for a second, then laughed out loud.

He smiled back, easing the tight tension hanging in the air of the clinic room.

After he was released from care, Rhys spent most days sitting in the courtyard sketching custom

furniture designs.

He’d worked as a high-end vintage furniture maker for years, until heart complications forced him

to step away from his business.

When I sanded down an old oak chair frame, he’d pass me a finer grit sandpaper.

When I mixed natural plant dyes for linen canvas, he offered gentle, thoughtful color suggestions.

He never told me my ideas were flawed or slow.

All he ever said was, “That concept’s brilliant-tweak it a little more and it’ll shine.”

One evening, I received a phone call from a new number Kai had purchased to reach me.

I answered, and heavy breathing crackled through the line.

“Sage, you finally picked up.”

“What do you need?”

“Where are you?”

I glanced toward the linen plant-dyed canvas hanging out to dry in the courtyard breeze.

“A place I actually want to be.”

Kai’s voice sharpened with suppressed anger.

“How much longer are you gonna keep throwing a fit?”

“I’ve negotiated your position back at the firm-you’ll start over as a junior intern assistant. Don’t turn your nose up at it; it’s the most stable option you’ve got.

My tone stayed flat, like speaking to a total stranger.

“I’m not coming back.”

His voice dropped lower, sharp with condescension.

“You can’t even parse a basic design contract on your own. How do you plan to avoid getting ripped off out there?”

Rhys stepped out from the back courtyard at that moment, carrying a plate of warm vanilla roasted cream tartlets.

He caught the tight, miserable look on my face, said nothing, and set the plate down on the wooden table beside me.

I spoke calmly into the phone receiver.

“Kai, I’m not some accessory you get to own and control.”

Silence stretched on the other end of the line for several seconds.

“Who’s filling your head with this garbage? Is there someone else with you?”

I ended the call without another word.

Rhys pushed the plate of tartlets toward me.

“They’ll turn tough once they cool off.”

I glanced up at him. “Aren’t you curious about what that was all about?”

He pulled out a chair across the table and sat down.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk about it.”

A soft wind swept through the courtyard.

For the very first time, I understood what it felt like to be truly seen and respected-quiet, unrushed, no strings attached.