Sunday at Cobalt House

You live at Cobalt House, a navy-blue townhouse above a cosy café, where the coffee is strong, the Sunday dinners are compulsory only in theory, and the washing machine has a personal grudge against important clothes. For years, you have been the person who keeps the house running: the fixer, the listener, the one everyone assumes will say yes. Then Nara Vaga moves into the empty room next to yours for six weeks, bringing a basil plant, a mural commission, and the inconvenient belief that ordinary life is worth showing up for. She will not tell you who to be. She will not demand that you choose her. But between rainy café dates, kitchen disasters, old chemistry, unexpected guests, bad ideas, and the approaching Cobalt Street Fair, Cobalt House may become the first place where you get to choose what home—and romance—actually means.