Page 100 of Power Play
We don’t even make it through the kitchen before we’re back on the street, laughing in that half-mad way people do when they’ve spent too much time scrolling property listings.
The next place is better. Still not perfect, but the hallway doesn’t smell like mould and the light actually filters through clean windows. There’s a balcony, small but functional, and Sophie steps out onto it as if she’s testing the weight of the sky.
I watch her. She’s got her hair half up, sunglasses perched on her head despite the clouds. Her hands are tucked into the sleeves of her jumper and her lips are slightly parted as if she’s waiting for something to feel right.
I step up beside her, close but not touching. “Well?”
“It’s not bad,” she says. “Could see us here. Maybe.”
It’s not much, but it’s the most hopeful thing she’s said all day.
We wander through the rest of the flat slowly, like we’re trying iton. The bedroom’s small, but the closet space is decent. Kitchen’s outdated, but Sophie runs a hand over the countertop and says, “We could paint the cupboards. Make it ours.”
My heart does something stupid in my chest.
We thank the agent and leave with a polite nod, but I can tell from the bounce in Sophie’s step that this one’s stuck with her.
Back on the pavement, I give it a beat. “You like it?”
She hesitates, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. I do. But...”
“But?”
“I think we can do better,” I say carefully. “Something with a bit more space. Maybe a second bedroom for when your mum visits. Or if we ever get a dog.”
She nods slowly, then says, “I want to be able to hold my own, Murph. Financially. I don’t want to move into somewhere you can afford but I can’t. I want to contribute fully, not just live in a place that feels like yours with a toothbrush and a pair of slippers.”
I take her hand. “I get it. I do. We’ll find somewhere that feels right. For both of us. A place that’s ours.”
She searches my face for a second, then nods. “Okay. Let’s keep looking.”
And we do.
That’s how we end up standing in a fourth flat by early afternoon. A converted mews with clean lines, big windows, two actual bedrooms, and a kitchen that doesn’t look like it’s been cryogenically frozen since the 90s. There’s even an underground garage, which makes me unreasonably smug about the future of my car.
Sophie walks slowly through the space, her fingers brushing along doorframes, her eyes scanning every corner. I trail behind her, letting her take the lead.
“It ticks every box,” she says eventually. “And the rent’s doable. We’d split it and still have room for takeaway Fridays and saving for a weekend away.”
I lean against the doorframe and watch her turn a slow circle in the middle of the living room. The sun pours through the big corner windows and lands on her hair like gold.
“You’d be happy here?”
She turns to me. “Wouldyoube happy here?”
“If you’re here, I’m good.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her. “Cheesy git.”
We stand there a while longer, just taking it in. I can already see where the sofa will go. Where she’ll nag me to hang up my hoodie.Where I’ll kiss her good morning and burn toast because I forgot to watch it.
I step behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She leans back into me, content and steady.
“Let’s tell them we’ll take it,” I whisper against her temple.
She nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
I drop her back at hers with a kiss and a soft, “Call me if you start doubting again. I’ll remind you how good we are at cohabiting.”
