Page 40 of Understood
Valentina was always good at reading the situation.
There was nothing more appropriate—and nothing more attractive—than the kind of tact that came from knowing when to press and when to pull back. And if Valentina was right, as she almost always was, Lilith felt at ease. Comfortable in her presence.
The blonde girl was still seated on her bed, though now with a hint of carelessness in her posture, as though the tension had melted away from her shoulders.
A faint warmth lingered in her eyes, a small glint that settled something in Valentina's chest, making her feel—if not reassured—then at least steadier.
But something was off.
Valentina couldn't name it, and that simple failure unsettled her more than anything. She was irritated with herself for not being able to catch it, to put her finger on the shift.
Thankfully, the long haired angel across from her—blessed with her gift for conversation and her insistence on keeping words flowing—shifted Valentina's attention back to where it belonged.
"Did you like the rose I left you?" Lilith asked, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her voice carried that careful mix of teasing and hesitation, soft enough to hide how much it mattered to her. "Or did you throw it away?"
She said it lightly, as though expecting the latter, but the question betrayed her hope—an unspoken wish that her small gesture had been received.
"I did," Valentina responded casually, her voice even, though she would never be so cruel as to dismiss something so tender. "It's in my office."
"Here or...?" Lilith asked curiously, her brows lifting just enough to show her wondering. She wanted to know if Valentina had carried it home, if it had been granted that kind of importance.
"Here," Valentina nodded.
There was something almost sad in the thought of leaving a single rose behind in her office at the company—abandoned among papers and schedules, destined to wilt unseen.
Bringing it home was different.
Bringing it home meant tending to it. Meant caring for this one fragile flower, giving it a place where it could still breathe.
"There's a lot of interesting things in that office," Lilith murmured, her gaze fixed on Valentina with an innocence so pure it could almost be mistaken for seduction.
And perhaps it was.
There was a teasing edge to her words, a playful danger in the way she said them that Valentina could never quite overlook.
"Oh really? So you've been snooping around," Valentina replied, raising an eyebrow with deliberate grace.
Her tone carried the weight of mild concern, though it was an act.
She wasn't worried. If there had been anything worth hiding, she trusted that Lilith—of all people—would have asked her about it long ago.
"Maybe?" Lilith teased, her lips curving just slightly, as if she knew how easily she could unsettle Valentina when she chose.
There was something about her in that moment—something light, careless and mischievous—that didn't surprise Valentina, but still managed to stir a flicker of excitement in her chest.
Lilith chose not to continue the thread of conversation, too aware that certain words might surface if she lingered.
The drawing, for instance.
Instead, she shifted the topic, her voice lilting back towards safety.
"Did you enjoy your sweet treat, though?" she asked, unwilling to let the memory of it fade into silence. The rose had been important, yes, but it hadn't been the only gesture.
Valentina smiled softly. The treat had been sweet, though not only because of its sugar.
The memory of it returned with the warmth of that evening—coming home after a long day, sitting down, allowing herself the rare indulgence of something that felt like comfort.
What had made it linger in her mind was not its flavor but the thought behind it, the quiet act of being cared for.
"Oh, I did," Valentina said, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. "Should I place another order? Maybe something with lemon next?"
Lilith's eyebrows shot up, her face a picture of mock offense. "First of all... order? Second of all... lemon? I thought you had better taste." She rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair, as though Valentina had just committed a crime against her sensibilities by even suggesting such a flavor.
"I assure you, my taste is just fine," Valentina murmured smoothly, her eyes traveling over the blonde girl with practiced ease before she continued, voice lowered. "And don't disappoint me like that. I assumed all of this was a subtle attempt to become my personal delivery girl."
Lilith huffed softly, pretending to be scandalized, though her smile betrayed her.
Because the truth was—she wouldn't have minded.
She wouldn't have minded one bit if her role in Valentina's life was reduced to something as desperate and absurd as showing up at her door each day with a box of sweet treats.
She wouldn't have minded the possibility of punishment—for missing a day, or perhaps getting the order wrong.
Of course, she wouldn't have minded when the punishment took on something pleasant in her mind, almost as if she would want to make a mistake on purpose, just to see Valentina irritated enough to punish her.
"I'm not that desperate...yet," Lilith murmured, her voice carrying the softness of a secret.
She shifted forward, rising onto her knees, one hand pressing against the mattress close to Valentina's hip as though for balance.
The movement placed her near enough to lean over Valentina, near enough that the air between them felt charged.
Her right hand stretched towards the nightstand by Valentina's elbow, fingers closing around the small, furry black panther plush that rested there.
Valentina's eyes followed every detail with precise attention.
Perhaps it wasn't the most appropriate thing to notice, but she couldn't help herself—the way Lilith's long blonde hair slipped forward as she moved, the faint sway of it brushing against her arm.
And then, the way Valentina's gaze caught on the delicate lace of Lilith's white top.
It concealed almost nothing, and what it failed to hide lingered in Valentina's mind with a stubborn clarity.
Lilith retreated back to her seat, slow and unhurried, her hands cradling the stuffed animal as if it were some great prize.
Maybe it was Valentina's mind that painted her as more flirty than usual tonight, or maybe it was the truth.
Nothing in Lilith's words or gestures was deliberate, nothing she said could be accused of crossing some type of nonexistent line.
And yet, Valentina found her focus locked on her, on every careless motion.
Lilith was attractive without effort—that was a fact.
But the mannerisms, the teasing sweetness, the unconscious charm she carried unsettled Valentina.
Because if she saw it so clearly, then so did others.
And that thought—others noticing, others experiencing it—was an irritation Valentina couldn't ignore.
"Is that who you're going to sleep with tonight?" Valentina asked, her voice smooth as her eyes flicked to the soft black figure held in Lilith's pale hands.
"Huh?" Lilith murmured, her tone hazy as she processed the words, uncertain whether Valentina was implying something else—something about her staying the night.
"It's one a.m., Lilith. You're staying." Valentina's response cut through the hesitation, delivered with the casual finality and obviousness.
Lilith nodded, happiness lighting her expression before she forced it into something quieter, as though she didn't want to reveal too much. Still, the corners of her mouth betrayed her—too eager, too pleased by the thought of what could only be described as a sleepover with Valentina.
"Then...I guess yes," she said softly, smoothing the ears of the plush panther.
Valentina's eyes narrowed, her expression caught somewhere between offense and amusement. "Better company than me?" she murmured, fully expecting Lilith to twist the remark into some playful insult. In fact, she welcomed it—inviting the challenge just by asking the question.
"It's cute and not as scary as you," Lilith replied, her voice calm but tinged with play, as though she could never resist poking fun at how terrifying Valentina could sometimes be.
"You wound me, sweetheart," Valentina murmured, her tone dripping with tragic mockery. Somehow, the dramatics only made her more attractive.
"That's my goal," Lilith said quietly, smiling.
And as if on cue—as though the word wound had summoned it—the forgotten sting of the cut on her thigh made itself known.
Sharp and sudden, it pulled her from the moment with a soft hiss.
"Ouch... I forgot about this one," she muttered, annoyed, pressing a finger gently against the inside of her pale thigh where the skin was marked.
Valentina's eyes dropped instantly, her body shifting with the instinct to care for her. She began to rise, but Lilith was quicker—already setting the plush panther aside onto the bed, her voice firm though still gentle. "It's okay. I'll do it myself."
Valentina leaned back into the pillows, watching as Lilith moved towards the edge of the bed where the small collection of bandages sat neatly beside on the vanity.
Her back was to Valentina now, long blonde hair cascading down like a curtain as she picked up a small disinfecting spray.
She tilted the nozzle, spraying softly over the cut, a faint hiss filling the quiet room.
But she didn't let it disturb her. Her mind had already begun to wander back to the evening, to the idea of what came next. "I was thinking," she began, her tone uncertain, "we could just go to a nice restaurant. If it's not too boring for you. That's... usually where people go on dates, right?"
She could think of a hundred other places—more exciting and more unusual—but she let herself settle for the comfort of something basic, not wanting anything to go wrong.
Valentina's gaze stayed fixed on her back, on the familiar shape of her shoulders and the way her hair shifted whenever she moved. There was something steadying about the sight of her. "The place doesn't matter," Valentina said at last.
Lilith smiled softly, setting down the spray. She reached for her raspberry vape, resting it between her fingers as if the motion itself grounded her. "People do," she added, a small truth spoken almost too simply.
"Exactly," Valentina answered, her voice carrying the finality of someone who had no doubts.
Lilith took a slow puff of her vape, the faint sweetness of raspberry curling through the air as she attempted a question she already knew would collapse before it even tried to land. "Maybe you should tell me about all the dates you had."
Silence answered her.
She exhaled, resigned, her back still turned so she couldn't see Valentina's expression—the slight raise of a brow that accompanied her stillness.
"What? It was worth trying," Lilith sighed, her voice soft and almost tragic in its dramatics.
"I have to live up to my own expectations.
" With delicate fingers she pressed the cute bandage onto her cut, smoothing it into place as though neatness could be a small redemption.
Everything was returned to its spot on the vanity, her movements tidy.
"I didn't know you're such a masochist," Valentina murmured from behind her, the words both amused and edged.
Lilith's lips curved into a faint smirk. "You don't know a lot of things," she replied, her tone carrying a suggestion that was anything but appropriate.
A quiet hum slipped from Valentina's throat, low and thoughtful. "Mhm."
But even as the room filled with their playful rhythm, something within Valentina snagged, a hook buried too deep to ignore. She still couldn't name it, couldn't articulate what was wrong. She only knew that it pressed against her ribcage, building until her body betrayed her.
Without warning, tears welled and spilled from her eyes, silent and uninvited. It was the worst possible moment—when Lilith had finally settled into comfort, when the night had taken on its teasing lightness. And yet here she was, undone.
The first soft sniffle broke the air, and Lilith turned instantly. Her blue eyes widened, unsure, scanning Valentina's face for confirmation. "Are you crying?"
Valentina stood abruptly, her answer sharp and almost desperate. "No." The word was more to herself than to Lilith, a fragile attempt at denial.
Lilith rose too, her concern disarming any hesitation. "What happened?" she asked, frowning softly as more tears betrayed Valentina, trailing down her cheeks no matter how stubbornly she willed them back.
She wasn't embarrassed—crying in front of Lilith didn't humiliate her. What angered her was the timing. This moment wasn't meant for this.
Lilith's brows pulled tighter, her expression carved with concern.
Without thinking, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Valentina's waist. She didn't press her head against her chest, didn't want to risk it being mistaken for her seeking comfort instead of offering it.
Instead, she simply held her, her hands moving slowly along Valentina's back, her touch tentative.
She had never pictured Valentina crying. Never allowed her imagination to wander that far. And maybe she should have. Maybe if she had, she would know better how to act now, how to soothe her.
"I feel guilty," Valentina murmured at last, the words slipping out like a confession, her arms heavy at her sides before one hand finally lifted to press against Lilith's back, pulling the blonde closer in a gesture that was both restrained and desperate.
"But why?" Lilith murmured, her voice trembling with disbelief at what the woman could possibly feel guilty about.
"The cuts. This entire situation." Valentina sighed, the words escaping her like a burden she could not quite set down. She didn't meet Lilith's eyes—those desperate, searching eyes that pleaded for her gaze as if it could anchor everything back into place.
"But it's okay. It really is." Lilith rushed to answer, the words spilling out as if speed itself could erase Valentina's pain.
Her hand—small, almost reverent—rose to tuck a stray strand of brunette hair behind Valentina's ear.
The gesture was delicate, almost childlike in its hope of soothing something that ran far deeper than hair falling out of place.
"Nothing in this situation is your fault," she added, her voice firmer now, as though naming it could turn that truth into stone.
Valentina's long fingers moved slowly to her own face, brushing away her own tears.
"Are you still worried?" Lilith asked, tilting her head in that slight, intuitive way of hers—trying to catch the shadow beneath Valentina's tears, the reason they existed at all.
"So worried, Lilith." The admission left Valentina. Her tears stilled, but the laugh that followed was dry, stripped of joy. "I might lose my mind."
"You can't. At least not that soon." Lilith's words were muffled as she burrowed into Valentina's warm body. She clung to her like a child to safety, but it wasn't safety she was after—it was to offer comfort, to give back even a fraction of what Valentina always carried for her.
"Just tell me what to do," Lilith whispered, her tone soaked in urgency, in sincerity. "Tell me how to make you stop feeling worried."
She meant it. She would bend, shrink, reshape her entire being if that was what Valentina needed.
"I don't think you can stop that." Valentina's voice softened, resignation coating every syllable.
Her head tilted slightly, as if the realization finally landed: there was no solution, no bargain, no condition that would free her from this ache.
She wasn't an anxious woman—not with work, not with herself, not with the world.
But with Lilith, the rules were different.
If there were a way to wrap the blonde in something impenetrable—something that could shield her from every physical harm, every careless word, every shadow of suffering that could exist—Valentina would have done it without hesitation.
Valentina pulled back, a quiet clarity settling over her. Perhaps she had just needed the hug, perhaps she had just needed to let herself cry. Either way, she whispered softly, her voice low and steady, "I just needed a moment... I'm alright."
She stepped out of the embrace with deliberate ease, almost nonchalantly, and moved towards the large mirror in her bedroom.
Her reflection caught the subtle movements of her hands as she smoothed down her hair, the faint catch of light on the strands framing her face.
Every motion was calm—but beneath it lingered the traces of what had just passed, a softness that didn't escape Lilith's notice.
Lilith remained rooted in place, head tilted, uncertain, a quiet tension in her chest. She wanted to trust the calm, wanted to believe that Valentina's composure was genuine, but the uncertainty really clung to her.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," Valentina said softly, turning just enough for her voice to reach Lilith, a subtle warmth threading through her words.
Lilith's brows drew together in mock offense, and she pouted, her lips forming the smallest, most theatrical frown. "Like what? I care about you..." And then, fully leaning into her flair for the dramatic, she extended the last syllable, almost as if singing, "sooo much."
Valentina's lips curved into a soft, indulgent smile, her gaze lingering on Lilith as if studying her with gentle amusement. "What a sweet girl," she murmured, voice soft and warm.
Lilith's chest lifted slightly, a quiet ease settling into her shoulders. She felt the tension that had gripped her moments before finally loosen. In her mind, a thought whispered—there she is.
?
Sleeping in a woman's bed that Lilith adored—and with whom she shared any romantic interest—felt surreal.
Even though it was only the second time, this time she was aware of the act, conscious as she drifted into sleep and, for once, awake in the morning rather than in the middle of the night.
Lilith would lie if she said she and Valentina hadn't cuddled at all.
She almost wanted to postpone falling asleep, to stretch out the seconds, to savor the sensation of being beside Valentina.
Yet sleep came with an ease that startled her, as though the presence of Valentina made surrender effortless.
One moment she was aware, the next she was gone, slipping quietly into dreams and peace.
The first thing Lilith silently thanked herself for in the morning—before even opening her eyes fully—was that she hadn't moved much.
The bed had stayed orderly. no pillow had tumbled to the floor.
Second, she noticed with quiet pride that she remained covered, her clothes unshifted, every piece lying in place, a big accomplishment for her.
Her private sense of satisfaction evaporated quickly, however, when she heard Valentina's slightly raspy voice cut through the morning calm. "Were you sparring with someone in your dreams or just trying to take me down?"
Lilith buried her face into the pillow, willing the sentence from her mind as if denial alone could erase it. She pretended not to hear, even as a faint warmth stirred in her chest at the humor in Valentina's tone.
The woman, for all her preference for peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, seemed amused rather than annoyed.
She had woken twice during the night. The first time, Lilith had shifted, taking up slightly more space than etiquette demanded. Valentina's hand had found her waist, a soft containment, before she had fallen back asleep as if nothing had happened.
The second time, she had stirred again, noticing that Lilith wasn't fully covered. A simple, instinctive motion followed. Adjusting the blanket, tucking it over her, protecting her from the chill.
What kind of woman would she be if she didn't ensure that the angel beside her didn't freeze, even a little, in the middle of the night?
"Oh god...don't embarrass me so early," Lilith groaned into the pillow, her voice muffled but still carrying a trace of amusement.
Valentina only laughed, that low sound curling through the quiet room as she rose from the bed with unhurried grace. Lilith immediately shifted, sliding into the space Valentina had left behind, savoring the lingering warmth in the sheets as if it belonged to her.
"As much as I'd love to let you finish me off, I do have to earn a living," Valentina sighed, glancing back at the blonde sprawled out in her bed with no apparent intention of leaving anytime soon.
Finish her off?
Lilith nearly hated Valentina for saying things like that so early—or at all.
Her brain had no defense against such words; they dissolved any trace of sleep, spinning her mind into thoughts that had nothing to do with sparring or resting, but instead everything to do with the very physical territory Valentina seemed to tread so casually.
"Are you staying?" Valentina asked, the question tossed lightly over her shoulder. Lilith's eyes had just fallen shut, but they snapped open at once.
"Oh, so you'd be fine with me stealing your bed?
" she murmured, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips.
For a moment she could almost believe in the fantasy of staying there all day, wrapped in Valentina's sheets, unbothered by the world.
But reality intruded quickly, and she sighed, her voice breaking into a whine. "Unfortunately, I've got a lecture."
Valentina nodded, saying nothing more as she disappeared into the bathroom to begin the motions of her morning.
Lilith sat up slowly, hair a hopeless mess she knew would take far too long to fix, her face puffy in a way that made her look even more youthful. She stared at the wall and murmured, almost childishly, "Could I get my clothes back?"
From the bathroom came Valentina's low, annoyed murmur, just loud enough for Lilith to hear. "Not really yours."
Before Lilith could say anything, Valentina reappeared, tossing the bundle of clothes directly at her face before vanishing again.
Lilith huffed, rolling her eyes, lips tugging into a reluctant smile despite herself. The woman could be impossibly mean in the smallest, pettiest ways—and Lilith found she couldn't dislike it.
She wasn't sure what the exact problem with the clothes was, or why they seemed to irritate Valentina so much.
Still, she took her time—far too much time—lying in bed before finally slipping into them, brushing out the tangles in her hair as best as she could.
Somewhere in the middle of it, she heard Valentina enter the room, quietly opening the wardrobe and taking some clothes.
When Lilith descended the stairs, she was met by the same gaze she had endured the night before: Valentina's look of offense, her eyes sharp and judging, as if Lilith had committed a crime by simply existing in that outfit.
Perhaps Valentina found them aesthetically displeasing, but Lilith, for her part, found Valentina more than pleasing to look at.
The woman was already dressed for work, her sleeves rolled neatly to her forearms, heels clicking softly against the floor, a white shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt that made her figure seem almost sculpted.
She sipped from her coffee with the kind of elegance that turned something mundane into something arresting.
For a fleeting moment, Lilith felt like some sort of wife watching her wife leave for work. And the worst part was—she could get used to the sight.
She climbed onto one of the high stools at the kitchen island, tucking her knees to her chest, her pale feet resting on the edge of the chair. Looking faintly offended, she asked, "What's wrong with my clothes?"
Valentina placed her cup down with deliberate calm, leaning forward against the counter. Her fingers curled loosely against the dark wood, her eyes lifting to Lilith's with the kind of look that pressed more than it revealed.
"They're not yours," she repeated, her tone almost annoyed at having to explain the obvious. Then, after a pause, her head tilted just slightly. "And maybe that's the problem."
Lilith blinked, laughter spilling out before she could stop it. She furrowed her brows in disbelief, eyes narrowing playfully. "What are you saying?"
She couldn't bring herself to imagine it—Valentina, jealous of something as insignificant as Daniel's clothes. And yet, the way her brow arched, the way her words landed with the disdain, it was unmistakable.
"Nothing." Valentina's voice carried the polished dismissal refusing to admit to more than she wanted. "I'm just suggesting that the next time I see you, you should be wearing something of yours...not"—her gaze swept over the outfit with disgust once again—"whatever this is."
She straightened, smoothing her shirt as if to erase the subject, and with a glance at the watch on her wrist, she added, "Anyway. Breakfast?"
"I don't eat breakfast," Lilith replied, her head tilting, lips curving into the smallest smile as she softened her voice, almost coaxing. "Tea?"
That much, at least, Valentina gave her.
Tea—though it arrived with a small plate of raspberries and a warm croissant.
And Valentina watched her, quietly until Lilith had eaten.
Only then did she drive her home, the balance of control and care stitched back into place, before heading towards her own day.
At the end of the day, Lilith was thankful for Rhys—for the way he had pushed her into speaking with Valentina, for calling the woman and even driving her straight to the penthouse when Lilith herself might have hesitated.
She found herself holding onto it replaying each detail in her mind with the eagerness ready to spill the whole thing to Gabrielle later.
Almost all of the puzzles of her life felt placed again—their edges fitted, their images clearer.
She could breathe easier with the picture they formed, even if it wasn't complete.
Some pieces had not been placed at all. They remained swept beneath the carpet—hidden from her, waiting for the right—or wrong—moment to surface.
She felt envious of them, of their ability to achieve that level of cruelty, because those innocent pieces of soft puzzles knew so well how to stimulate her brain, dredging up old demons she thought were long buried.