Page 13

The night had somehow managed to be worse than the entire day, and the day had already left Lilith feeling like she was losing her mind.

Acting insane was one thing—frustration, anger, even embarrassment—those were emotions she could ride out, bite her lip through, and move on from.

But this... this was something else entirely.

If she had to choose between being frustrated 24/7 or whatever this was, she'd take the constant torment. At least frustration didn't make her feel like she was shattering into something small and unlovable.

It didn't happen often, thank god. But when it did, it didn't knock politely.

It arrived like a wave crashing against her chest—quiet, heavy, and cruel in its softness.

On nights like this, when the world went quiet and she was left with just herself, a wave of sensitivity would hit her like a punch to the chest. She'd always been sensitive—tears coming too quickly, thoughts running too loud—but tonight was different.

This was the kind of sensitivity that made her feel like she was made of glass even more than usual.

She remembered talking about it with one of her old therapists once.

The conversation still made her cringe. It had felt so pathetic to admit.

She hadn't even been able to look her therapist in the eye as she described it—how she'd lie in bed late at night, everything still, everything dark, and suddenly the weight of it would land. This need she couldn't explain.

This was something else. Something deeper.

It felt like being a little girl again, the kind who stayed up, lying still in the dark, waiting for the front door to creak open. Waiting for her mother to come in and whisper goodnight. Maybe kiss her forehead. But it never happened. It just didn't come.

That was the part that haunted her the most. The waiting. The silence. The rejection that was never loud, never cruel—it just wasn't there.

And somehow, some twisted part of her craved that feeling again.

Not because she liked it, but because it was familiar.

Because in that need, in that ache, there was at least something real.

Sometimes she even wanted someone to be cruel to her, cold and sharp, like ice against a bruise.

Something to match the confusion inside her.

It was all so fucked up.

All she could do now was curl tighter into her bed, clutch her plushies to her chest, and try not to drown in the loneliness.

?

Valentina hadn't answered Lilith's texts.

She sat alone in her office, the glow of her laptop screen lighting her sharp features, but her eyes were unfocused. Her mind kept drifting to the unresolved situation.

She didn't like unfinished.

She wondered if Lilith would show up again. Maybe she'd try to apologize in person, show up blushing and awkward.

She liked resolution. Control. She liked knowing everything.

So when the knock echoed on her office door that evening, she paused, looking up from her laptop. A flicker of a thought crossed her mind: Could it be her? The blonde girl standing awkwardly in the doorway, trying to make things right?

Maybe next time she would make her apologize properly. On her knees.

The knock belonged to a Hawthorne—just not the small, blonde one.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed lazily. "Hey, Miss. Did Lili respond?"

Valentina closed her laptop with a soft click and sighed. "I got a response," she said smoothly, her voice giving nothing away. "But not the one I expected."

Oscar tilted his head back, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm... sorry for her," he said hesitantly, knowing Lilith would kill him if she heard this. "She's not in the best state right now."

Valentina's eyebrow arched.

She already had the sense that something was off with Lilith—something deeper than just nerves or embarrassment. But this confirmed it, and now she wanted to know.

Oscar didn't stay long. He offered a small smile and slipped away, leaving Valentina alone again. She sat back in her chair, arms crossed, thinking.

Still, she didn't expect an apology. Not anymore.

Instead, she closed her laptop, stood, and decided to leave work early.

Valentina hadn't planned on going to that store again. But something about today tugged her there.

And as soon as she walked in, she felt it again-that strange, quiet sense of amusement. The kind that softened the sharp corners of her mind.

She remembered the look on Lilith's face as she pointed to that ridiculous plushie. "It looks like you," she'd said, completely serious. That same black panther now sat quietly in Valentina's bedroom, right where she'd placed it the day she bought it.

Well, if the girl could pick a plushie that looked like her, Valentina could do the same.

She didn't wander like Lilith had, didn't run her fingers through the fur of soft animals or tilt her head at every corner of the store. Her eyes scanned the shelves deliberately, quickly.

And then they stopped.

Would it be too much?

Nothing was too much for Valentina Salvatore.

?

Back home, the stuffed animal sat on her coffee table like a secret.

She took her time packing it, folding the tissue paper just right, tying the satin ribbon with practiced elegance.

Even her smallest gestures carried intention, and this was no exception.

She placed it gently into a big, sleek black box—minimalist, luxurious, and just a little dramatic, like her.

She slipped a note between the folds.

While she worked, she balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear. Amber's voice filtered in, playful but laced with something else—confusion, maybe even concern.

"So... this is for the blonde girl, right?" Amber asked.

Valentina didn't respond. She just reached for the tape and smoothed it down like silk.

Amber exhaled on the other end. "You better tell me everything later. Everything. I need to know what's going on."

Valentina didn't promise anything. She never did. She only made promises when she was certain she would keep them-when every word felt earned. She wasn't one to throw promises around like they meant nothing.

Finding out where Lilith lived wasn't difficult.

It wasn't particularly moral either. But it wasn't a crime.

Did she care whether Lilith was home? Not especially. If she was, fine. If she wasn't, that was fine too.

She could leave it at the door.

Getting into the apartment complex? Too easy.

Most things were, for Valentina. She was grateful for that.

She rang the doorbell.

And Lilith? She didn't even check who it was.

She just opened the door, half asleep, in an oversized t-shirt that barely covered her thighs. Her hair was a mess, her expression blank at first—and then it hit her.

First of all-how the fuck did this woman know where she lived?

Second-why the fuck was she here?

Third-what the fuck was she holding?

A slick box rested against her hip like it was nothing. And Valentina... god, she looked beautiful. That part wasn't surprising. But her hair was curled slightly tonight, soft waves falling over her shoulders, and she wore a long black coat instead of her usual beige.

Lilith's mouth opened, then closed again. She didn't even notice she was staring.

Valentina, on the other hand, noticed everything.

She scanned the girl up and down, starting with the t-shirt—and silently prayed there were panties underneath. Not that she'd even say a word about it.

But still.

And then her eyes stopped.

Her gaze landed on Lilith's wrists.

Burns.

Red. Raw. Barely healed.

"Oh god." Valentina murmured, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, her voice low and genuinely shaken. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

She placed the box down on the floor with surprising gentleness and reached for one of Lilith's wrists, holding it carefully between her fingers.

Lilith nodded, awkward as hell. "Yeah..."

She didn't know where to look. Or how to breathe. She felt more awkward than when she'd first stood in Valentina's office like a trembling idiot, or even when she showed up with those stupid roses to apologize.

"So..." she started, and her voice came out wrong, too tight. She cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

Valentina didn't miss a beat. "Exploring," she said smoothly, echoing Lilith's own words from that day in her office.

Lilith blinked. And then—she smiled. Softly. Almost like a frown. Her lips curved, but her eyes didn't follow.

Valentina noticed.

If she hadn't been one hundred percent sure something was wrong before, she was now. The girl would've normally giggled, maybe even said something smart—but now, there was only silence.

"What's wrong?" she asked, straightforward and quiet.

And then, more gently—"You know I'm not mad about your response. I could've asked more..." she paused, searching for the right word. "Civilly."

Lilith looked down at her feet.

And then, after a beat, she murmured, "I'm sorry about that."

Her voice was small. Not embarrassed—just tired. She blinked, realizing they were still standing in the middle of her hallway. Valentina's coat carried the faint scent of rain and perfume.

"Um... you can come in." The short girl said quietly.

Valentina nodded once and stepped further inside, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. She didn't need a grand tour—she understood the layout instantly. The apartment was small, intimate, and a little chaotic.

Her eyes briefly scanned the room. Candles. Books. Warm lights. Crumpled blankets. Pillows in excess. A chaos that somehow reflected Lilith perfectly.

From where she stood, she had a perfect view of the kitchen and the shattered remains of what used to be a mug—half of it still on the counter, the other half on the floor, sharp pieces catching the dim light.

Valentina sighed.

Was the girl really that clumsy?

She glanced at Lilith without a word and slowly took off her coat, folding it over the back of a chair as if she did this every day. Despite the way she moved—confident, calm—there was still a subtle kind of grace to her steps, like she didn't want to break anything else in the process.

The woman started picking up the shards of the mug without a word, not embarrassingly crouched like Lilith probably would've been, but with the confidence of someone who belonged there.

Lilith giggled softly. The way Valentina moved—it was like she'd been in this kitchen a hundred times, like she knew exactly where things went, like she'd cleaned up after her before.

Then Valentina sat down on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, graceful as ever. Lilith still stood in the middle of the room, unsure, like some ghost that haunted the woman. Which, honestly, didn't feel far from the truth.

"Are you going to tell me what happened..." Valentina said, her voice light, almost teasing, "or should I start guessing?"

Lilith let out a breath and moved to sit beside her, tugging a blanket over her bare thighs. The shirt she wore was definitely too short for company, but at least she had panties on.

"Rough day?" she asked, then quickly corrected herself. "Rough days."

Valentina nodded. She wasn't the kind of person to push, especially not now, not with the silence clinging so thickly between them.

Her eyes flicked to the burns on Lilith's wrists, trailing upward.

And Lilith wasn't teasing, wasn't giggling, wasn't filling the room with quick—witted charm. She just was.

Lilith picked at her cuticles absently, her kitten-like claws chipped and uneven—some broken, barely holding on, others still perfectly intact, while two fingers were completely bare. Valentina's voice broke the silence, low and gentle. "Don't do that."

Lilith stopped instantly, dropping her hands into her lap. She looked around, searching for something to fill the air. "So... do you like my apartment?"

Valentina's laugh came effortlessly. God, Lilith liked that sound.

It was so beautiful.

Everything about the woman was effortlessly beautiful—like beauty clung to her, followed her, bent to her will. Her presence carried weight, like it meant something, like the world itself should fall to its knees for her.

Valentina glanced around. "Pretty similar to mine."

Suddenly, for a second, Lilith's wit sparked back to life. She raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Just cheaper, smaller, and much worse."

They both laughed, the kind of soft, breathy laugh that didn't need to be loud to feel real. It was comfortable. Almost dangerously so.

But the weight inside Lilith hadn't entirely lifted. She glanced at the woman, the words slipping out like they'd been waiting in her throat too long.

"I am really sorry." she said.

Valentina looked over, but Lilith rushed on before she could speak.

"It's not like it's not my problem," she paused, realizing how messy that sounded. "I mean... it's not really mine but-" she stopped again, flustered.

Valentina stared at her a moment, then softened. "I understand," she murmured. "And I forgive you. Hmm?"

Lilith nodded, eyes warm but tired. There was something in the way Valentina said it—like she meant it. Like she didn't need to hear an explanation to get her. And maybe, just maybe, that was what Lilith had needed most.

Lilith rested her head sleepily against the backrest of the couch, eyes half-lidded but her lips tugging into a small, grateful smile. "Thank you." she whispered.

She breathed out slowly. "I survived explaining myself to Gabrielle, I apologized to you... and now it's time for Oscar."

She giggled softly at the overshare, suddenly shy, but hoping the woman wouldn't mind. After all, they had talked a few times now, and Lilith felt good when they did. Strangely good.

Valentina raised a brow, eyes glinting with subtle curiosity. The girl really was something—did she act this confusing to her brother and Gabrielle, too?

"Gabrielle?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "The girl from the bar?"

Lilith nodded, her cheek still pressed against the couch. "I'll bake them cookies." she murmured with a sleepy smile. Then, almost too quickly "Should I visit you and give you some too?"

Valentina's lips curved, amused. "You bake?"

Lilith blinked, and something clicked deep inside her. The question sounded so normal. So domestic. She couldn't even explain why.

"Sometimes I bake," she said with a shrug, "sometimes I burn down my kitchen. Depends."

She giggled again, soft and tired. The woman took one look at her drooping posture and stood from the couch.

"It's late." Valentina said gently taking her coat from the chair "I'll get going."

And just like that, Lilith's heart dropped. A strange panic fluttered inside her chest. She didn't want her to go. Everything felt lighter, calmer, because of her presence.

Why was she leaving?

Did she not want to talk more?

Was she busy?

Lilith got up quickly, walking Valentina to the door, already feeling the empty space in the apartment tightening around her. The woman bent down to pick up the sleek black box she'd left near the entrance.

"I got you something." she said simply, holding it out.

Lilith's eyes widened. "A gift?" she echoed, sounding like a child on Christmas morning.

Valentina smiled faintly and placed the box in her hands before reaching for the door handle. "Goodnight, Lilith."

And this time, unlike that night at the bar, Lilith had a chance to respond.

"I'm sorry again, goodnight-and thank you so much," she said quickly, her words tumbling over one another in a rush of sincerity, like a kid reciting the magic trio of sorry, thank you, and please.

She closed the door behind the woman, her heart racing a little. Then she heard Valentina laugh softly from the other side, and Lilith flushed to her ears.

Embarrassed? Absolutely. But somehow... she was smiling..

What she didn't know was that she'd smile even more after seeing what the gift was.