Page 14

Rabbit.

White.

White bunny.

That's what she saw when she opened the box. A white bunny plushie—so large she actually blinked a few times to process it. She smiled. Slowly, sweetly. The kind of smile that started on her lips and then slipped into her eyes like sunlight through curtains.

Did the woman seriously get her a plushie?

Lilith gently took it out and lay down on the floor with it, her cheek pressing into the soft fur. It was unbelievably fluffy—almost too much. But she liked too much.

As she stretched her body over the bunny's belly, she heard something scrunch. Frowning slightly, she noticed a delicate note tucked beneath the ribbon tied around its neck, hidden just enough in the fur to feel secret. She sat up, carefully taking it between her fingers.

The way it was folded so precisely. The ink. The texture. God, even the note looked expensive. Looked thoughtful. Elegant. She opened it slowly and there it was—cursive. Beautiful cursive.

She stared for a second and prayed, genuinely prayed, that she'd be able to read it.

She looked like she wouldn't break a vase. I took that as a promising sign. If you ever feel like sharing that recommendation-I still haven't found anyone. I trust your judgment more than you'd think.

Lilith stared at the note again, her fingers tracing the delicate letters. She suddenly remembered the recommendation Valentina had asked for. The weight of the moment hit her.

She wondered now—who could the woman possibly need a business therapist for?

Did Valentina have work problems? It felt strange to imagine her as anything less than perfect, but Lilith couldn't shake the thought.

Still, there was something deeply attractive about the fact that the woman believed in getting help—therapy, specifically.

Nothing annoyed Lilith more than people who dismissed it entirely.

Did it always work? No. But was it a really great step? Yes, definitely.

She wanted to slap herself for not giving the recommendation immediately. What had she been thinking?

Sighing, Lilith reached for her phone, her fingers moving with a sense of purpose now.

She called her old therapists one by one, brows furrowing as she searched for potential contacts.

After an hour of calling and scouring through notes, she finally compiled a list—last names, phone numbers, addresses—all neatly typed out in a message.

She looked over at the massive bunny on the floor, then grabbed it, dragging it with her to her bed.

The plushie was gigantic—almost absurdly large—but it was exactly what she needed.

She lay on it, hugging its soft body as she stared at the ceiling, letting the warmth from the stuffed bunny calm her thoughts.

She pouted, remembering she hadn't shown the woman her plushie collection.

Taking a picture of the plushie with a soft smile, she sent it to Valentina with a message.

"i love it, thank you"

Then, without hesitating, she sent the next message.

"here's the few reccomendations i hope theyre good enough3"

As a final touch, Lilith changed Valentina's contact name on her phone to just "Valentina" with a black heart.

She always added a heart to everyone's name, but she was careful with the colors.

Everyone had their color, and black seemed to fit Valentina perfectly.

Elegant. Certain. A little intimidating.

Almost immediately, a reply popped up, causing Lilith to bury her face into the plushie even more.

''I appreciate your effort in compiling these. Thank you, Lilith. The gesture is genuinely thoughtful.''

Lilith blinked at the message for a second. Then let out a small laugh, her cheeks squishing into the plush fur.

Lilith stared at the screen for another second before taking a screenshot and sending it to Gabrielle.

Gabrielle replied almost instantly.

''stop the way she texts''

Lilith giggled softly into the plushie, fingers typing back.

''it's kinda hot tho...''

The bunny was warm. Or maybe she was just finally letting herself feel safe.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

After two chaotic days, she was exhausted—but thankful. Thankful she could fix the situation with Valentina. That was already something.

Now, it was time for Oscar.

But she didn't know it wouldn't go as easy as she thought it would.

?

She felt it first—fingers trailing across her waist, slow, claiming, like they belonged there.

A breath caught in her throat.

Then lips—warm, soft, unhurried—pressed against hers. Deep. Possessive. Her spine arched instinctively, mouth parting with a quiet whimper that earned a low, amused laugh against her lips. The sound went straight to her chest, curling around her ribs like smoke.

A hand slid up beneath her shirt, knuckles brushing her stomach. Cold. Rings. The sharp contrast made her gasp. She leaned into it, into her, letting the woman press her down, letting her take.

She could feel her. All of her. The way her body hovered over hers without hesitation. The weight of it. The heat. The certainty.

Teeth grazed her neck. A breath against her ear. "Good girl."

Lilith's heart stuttered.

Valentina.

Valentina Salvatore.

She shot up in bed like someone had poured ice water down her spine, breath shallow, chest rising and falling beneath the now twisted fabric of her shirt.

What the hell.

It was a dream.

A dream.

She sighed. Loudly.

Did she seriously dream about that?

She didn't even want to think about what it meant. Not now. Maybe not ever.

She rolled off the bed, groaning at the weight of the morning and everything it already demanded from her. A long day waited. And the dream? She wasn't going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

She didn't even have time to analyze the dream. Didn't need to force it out of her head or pretend it didn't happen—because the crushing weight of responsibilities and university life hit her like a truck the second she checked her phone.

Two days.

That's all it took for her entire academic life to unravel. Emails, notifications, missed assignments, rescheduled lectures. Everything had piled up like it had been waiting for her to exhale once before burying her alive.

She didn't even get the chance to tell Gabrielle about the dream.

It wasn't that she still felt like a walking bruise the way she had two days ago. That cold frustration had simmered down, finally. But the numbness that replaced it? That quiet awareness that life wasn't magically going to get better?

That part was tiring.

Something was coming. She could feel it in her bones, in the way the day clung to her skin.

She didn't know if she should pray, start journaling, or order a questionable tarot reading off Instagram just to have someone—anyone—confirm that yes, the worst month of her life was rolling in like a storm.

?

Later that day, she found herself at Oscar's apartment.

His girlfriend was away, thankfully—Lilith didn't have to apologize with her standing there, even though she knew much about her. It would've been painfully awkward.

But before she could even open her mouth, he beat her to it.

"You know you can control outbursts like that, especially when it comes to my boss?"

Lilith blinked. Her brows furrowed, her entire body tensing.

Did he know what she said? Did the woman tell him?

Before she could ask, he spoke again.

"You could've ignored the text."

"I know, and-" she started.

"You're sorry. Yeah," he cut her off flatly.

Her head tilted slightly, confused. "You don't think I'm truly sorry?"

Oscar let out a tired sigh, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"You know those situations happen, Lili. And I do think you're capable of just... ignoring people sometimes when you're like that. It's not impossible."

She looked down at her shoes, swallowing.

But then came the part she hadn't prepared for. The one that wasn't cruel, wasn't shouted—but still landed like a slap.

"It's your fault, Lilith."

Silence.

She nodded, because what else could she do?

It wasn't like nothing was her fault. No one forced her to text back the woman. She did it on her own—her fingers moving with sharp, impulsive pride. And even if the woman hadn't reacted badly, even if she'd answered with frustrating elegance, it had still been inappropriate. Childish, even.

Maybe the states she found herself in sometimes weren't her fault. Maybe her brain short-circuited, maybe it curled in on itself in self-defense. But her actions? Those were hers. And she was aware.

God, she was so painfully aware.

And sometimes that was worse-because being aware meant she should've done better. And when she didn't, when she couldn't... she ended up being something she didn't even recognize. Someone impulsive. Sharp tongued. Someone she didn't want to be.

She wanted to cry a little. Just enough to relieve the pressure. But she didn't want to look pathetic. Not more than she already had.

She was tired of looking pathetic.

So she accepted Oscar's words. Quietly. She understood him. His work life mattered. He'd fought so hard for it.

And then he asked, while preparing her tea like nothing had just fractured between them,"What are you even doing talking to my boss?"

She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

"I don't know," she finally said, sinking into the kitchen chair.

A beat passed.

"She's not that bad, you know."

Oscar turned halfway, raising a brow. "Yeah? That's why I heard about you totally embarrassing yourself in her office?"

Lilith let her head drop onto the table with a soft, frustrated bang. Probably too hard. The sound echoed just enough to feel symbolic.

She needed to get it together. Behave better. Be better.

"Everything's solved," she muttered into the table. Then raised her head, eyes clearer than they'd been all day.

"And nothing like that will happen again. I promise."

Oscar sat down at the table next to her, the mug warm in his hands as he passed it over.

"I hope it won't," he said, voice softer now but still edged with that quiet frustration.

He paused, clearly trying to find the right words.

"Because if you get her mad enough to cause problems for me.

.." A sigh slipped through his lips. "I won't be happy, Lilith. "

She sipped her tea, small and silent. "I know."

God, she knew.

She hated affecting others. She despised being a burden.

She could be falling apart quietly—cracking at the edges, unraveling in ways no one could see-but that never truly mattered to her.

Not until it reached someone else. Not until her silence turned into someone else's worry, her pain reflected in another's eyes.

She could be dying.

But the moment someone would cry over it she'd suddenly, almost magically, become immortal.

That was just how her brain worked. Somehow twisted. Somehow cruel to herself and kind to everyone else.

She shouldn't be getting close to anything involving that woman. Shouldn't be engaging, shouldn't be replying, shouldn't be thinking.

She shouldn't be doing any of it.

But... why did conversations with Valentina make her feel peace?

She wrapped her fingers tighter around the mug.

She didn't have the answer.