i hate you

chapter ten

𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐑 𝐀 𝐋   𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐎 𝐏 𝐈 𝐋 𝐎 𝐓

Sylvie strolled into the cosy café, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the soft hum of chatter. She spotted Malachi sitting at their usual table in the corner, his nose buried in his phone. She approached him with a smirk, knowing exactly how to ruffle his feathers.

"Morning, sunshine," she quipped, sliding into the seat opposite him. Malachi looked up, his expression guarded.

"What's so sunny about it?" he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Birds chirping, flowers blooming, and you being your charming self," Sylvie shrugged.

"Cut the crap, Sylvie. We've got work to do," Malachi rolled his eyes, but Sylvie could detect a hint of amusement in his gaze.

"Wow, someone's in a mood. Did you forget to add sugar to your coffee this morning?" Sylvie raised an eyebrow.

"Can we please focus on the task at hand?" Malachi sighed, exasperated.

"Fine. Let's talk Christmas party," Sylvie leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

"Right. First item on the agenda: decorations."

"Ugh, do we really have to talk about this? Can't we just hire someone to handle all the glitter and tinsel?" Sylvie groaned, rolling her eyes.

Malachi shot her a look. "And miss out on all the fun? I don't think so."

"Oh, right. Because nothing says fun like untangling a million strings of lights."

Sylvie and Malachi poured over the budget spreadsheet, their fingers dancing across the rows and columns as they scrutinised every line item.

"We're way over budget on decorations," Sylvie pointed out, furrowing her brow. "Do we really need all this stuff?"

"We want the party to be memorable, right? That means we can't skimp on the decorations," Malachi sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Memorable, yes. Bankrupt, no. We need to be smart about how we spend our money," Sylvie rolled her eyes, tapping her pen against the table.

"Fine. We'll cut back on the decorations, but we'll need to find other areas to save."

"What about food and drinks? We could scale back on the catering and ask guests to bring a dish instead."

Malachi hesitated, but then nodded. "That could work. We'll just have to make sure everyone knows it's a potluck."

Papers were scattered across the table, pens and highlighters strewn about haphazardly. Despite the chaos, there was an air of determination between them, a shared goal that pushed them forward even as they clashed over the details.

Sylvie leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest as she studied the spreadsheet on her laptop screen. "We also need to consider entertainment," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "Live music, maybe? Or a DJ?"

"That's going to blow our budget out of the water," he argued. "We need to focus on the essentials first," Malachi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And what exactly do you consider 'essential'? Mistletoe and a few strands of tinsel?" Sylvie shot him a withering look.

"We need to prioritize," he insisted. "Food, drinks, and a venue. Everything else is just icing on the cake."

"What about that mansion on Oak Street?" she suggested, "It's perfect for our Christmas party. Grand ballroom, sweeping staircase, the whole nine yards."