Page 22

"I might want to end up in the hospital more often if it means free good food."

Valentina rolled her eyes as she started the car, both of them full now—content in that quiet, stretched way that comes only after good food and even better company.

The atmosphere felt soft, like a sweater pulled over tired shoulders, the kind of peace that didn't announce itself but simply settled.

Evening had long fallen, unnoticed by the two women who somehow spent hours at the restaurant without checking the time.

"Try that again and the next thing you'll get for free is a funeral," Valentina muttered.

Lilith giggled, practically melting into the passenger seat, her limbs loose, her heart lighter than it had been in days. It was only now that she noticed the interior LED lights inside the car were still pink—less bright than earlier, a calmer hue, but unmistakably still there.

Valentina Salvatore really made her melt today.

It was the little things. The way she'd left the lights pink. The raspberry filling inside the chocolate cake without Lilith even asking. The bigger things, too—the way she had taken her out to eat, insisted on paying, made her feel looked after in a way that Lilith wasn't used to.

But she brushed it off quickly. She wasn't about to spiral into delusion over the literal color of lights. Valentina had probably just forgotten they were on.

Still, Lilith closed her eyes softly. Valentina's car was warm, the leather seat almost cradling her. The subtle hum of the engine, the low music, the scent of Valentina's perfume—it all made her impossibly sleepy.

At this point, she was almost ready to ask the woman if she could just stay there until morning.

"Content?" Valentina murmured, her eyes flicking towards her passenger.

"Mhmm," Lilith answered, head tilting lazily toward her.

"Though... a cig wouldn't hurt anyone," she added opening her eyes softly.

"You might get one if you'll behave," Valentina said without missing a beat.

Lilith wanted to joke that she was being perfectly well-behaved—but the past few days really didn't agree with that.

So instead, she just smiled to herself and let her eyes fall closed again.

Flashbacks washed over Lilith the moment she stood in front of her apartment complex—an odd, distant kind of memory unspooling behind her eyes as Valentina leaned against her black car, arms crossed gently over her chest.

"You don't want to come in?" Lilith asked, her voice light—so deliberately light it almost disappeared into the evening air.

She wasn't asking because she needed her to.

She wasn't asking with hope stitched into her words.

She was simply floating in the peace of today, the softness of her own body for once not burdened by the ache of overthinking, and letting her voice follow the warmth that lingered in her throat.

"I still have some work to do," Valentina answered softly.

And it hit Lilith.

It wasn't even the weekend.

It was Wednesday—Valentina had work today. And yet she'd been there in the late morning, already picking her up.

"You missed work because of me?" Lilith asked, her voice quieter now, the edge of guilt slipping in like cold air under a door.

"No. I simply took a break," Valentina replied as if Lilith wasn't already calculating how much of Valentina's workload she could do herself to repay her.

Lilith's smile trembled—half fond, half guilty. Her brow furrowed slightly.

"I know I already said that but... I'm very thankful," she murmured.

There was no world in which Lilith wouldn't speak her heart. Not when she felt this full of something bright.

"Thank you for making my day great."

The short girl was graced with one of the warmest smiles she'd ever seen. The kind that settled into your chest and stayed there, soft and unforgettable, like sunlight breaking through cold glass.

"Take care of yourself, hmm?" the tall woman murmured, opening her car door with a fluid motion.

"Yes, Miss Salvatore," Lilith called with a teasing lilt as she turned towards the gate of her apartment complex, still grinning.

And then she did everything she promised herself she would.

She ran a bath and stayed there for three hours, the water going lukewarm long before she cared. She rubbed lotions into her arms and legs with careful hands. Layered serums on her face with an almost religious rhythm. Wore a long, clean shirt and fluffy socks. Even tidied up a little.

And now, with her hair wet and sticking to her cheeks she looked like a drowned, content rat.

That was when the doorbell rang.

It was late. Not too late, but late enough to be strange. Her first thought was Gabrielle. She moved towards the door with the sluggish curiosity of someone too content to be alarmed.

But when she opened it—

It wasn't Gabrielle.

It wasn't anyone at all.

Just a large, sleek bag sitting neatly at her doorstep, the logo of a catering company she didn't recognize stamped in gold at the center. Beside it, a smaller white paper bag.

Lilith knelt, hands slow, lifting them both.

She brought them inside.

Inside the catering bag were neatly packed boxes containing two days' worth of perfectly portioned meals—alongside carefully packed salads, strawberries coated in a delicate layer of dark chocolate, raspberries still cold and fresh, and a golden, flaky croissant that looked like it had been baked that afternoon.

She blinked at it.

The smile formed before she could stop it—wide and slow and real.

Then she turned to the smaller bag.

Inside, bottles of supplements. She recognized the names immediately. Iron. B12. Vitamin D. Magnesium. All the ones the doctor had listed.

There was a note.

Eat well and take them every day—the doses are written below.

Lilith stared at it for a second too long.

Then unfolded the rest of the page.

Below the note were small lines written in precise order. Each vitamin. Each day. Each dosage. No detail left vague. No room for confusion.

Lilith's eyes softened as they scanned the familiar cursive.

The blonde girl found it incredibly sweet and endearing that Valentina clearly enjoyed writing those little notes.

It was so surprising, so tender, it scared her a little.

The feeling it stirred was overwhelming in that quiet, creeping way.

Lilith didn't even try to untangle it.

She was scared of her own emotions—of the thoughts that curled around them when she wasn't paying attention. So she didn't let them linger long.

Lilith considered sending Valentina an exaggerated message—something like ''thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!!''—but decided against it. She wanted to do something real instead, to show how much she appreciated it. Besides, it would be a chance to see Valentina again.

Not that any gesture would be enough—getting on her knees and kissing Valentina's heels felt like the only thing that might come close.

She put away the fresh things with careful hands, setting everything in its place.

The salads and fruit went into the fridge, the vitamins stacked neatly on the counter.

She left herself with the croissant and chocolate-covered strawberries, curling up in bed with them and the comfort of her blanket, dialing Gabrielle almost instinctively.

Her phone lay across her chest, the warmth of it sinking gently into her skin as Gabrielle's voice burst through the speaker.

"She told me I should be more responsible," Gabrielle announced dramatically. "Which is crazy because I wasn't even there? Like, lady, I don't know what to tell you."

Lilith snorted, biting into a strawberry. The chocolate cracked between her teeth, bitter and rich as she hummed, chewing slowly. "I told her you weren't with me. I don't know... She'll probably apologize, Gabi."

On the other end, Gabrielle gave a sharp, incredulous laugh. "She needs to."

"Oh??" Lilith responded, grinning against her fingers as she took another bite, the juice of the strawberry brushing the corner of her mouth.

?

Peacefulness, despite its charm, never lasts.

After a long day at university and trying to catch up on everything she had missed, Lilith sat tucked into her favorite corner of the library. She felt, in the warm hush of this space, like a new human being.

Until the next time she ended up drunk and sprawled out somewhere, which, judging by the look of her week, would likely be this weekend.

Her favorite tea—with far too much sweetener—rested warm in her hands. She had finished her university work, finally, and now read without pressure. It was one of those comforts she returned to like a ritual.

And then, a presence.

Lilith sensed it before she looked up.

There was a familiar ginger-haired woman standing nearby—smiling, slightly breathless, like she'd just recognized someone unexpectedly.

"Lilith?" the woman asked. Or said. It felt like both.

Lilith blinked, her mind scrambling. The name was there—on the tip of her tongue, fluttering annoyingly out of reach.

To her defense, she'd only heard it once, mumbled by Gabrielle while extremely hungover.

So she just tilted her head, staring softly, trying not to panic about the blank space in her memory.

The woman laughed, seemingly amused by Lilith's confusion.

"Amber."

"Oh—yes. Amber," Lilith murmured, cheeks warm. "I'm so sorry."

Amber sat down beside her, and Lilith instinctively gathered her scattered things—pens, papers, highlighters—to the side, giving Amber space on the table.

"Sorry that we never had a chance to talk," Amber said, smiling.

Lilith giggled, surprised. It was nice that the woman had even wanted to talk to her.

"No, it's okay. I kind of... interrupted you and Valentina," she replied, the name still strange on her tongue—like something she wasn't supposed to say aloud.

"It was just business," Amber said quickly, then winked with light-hearted charm. "By the way the cookie was great."

Lilith smiled softly.

Amber pulled two books from her bag and placed them on the table. Lilith's eyes landed on the top one instantly—it was Games People Play by Eric Berne.

"Games People Play?" she asked, voice barely above the ambient hush of the library.

"You know it?" Amber tilted her head, intrigued.

"Of course. It's a classic." Lilith nodded, then added, "Have you read it yet?"

Amber sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Halfway through. And I already hate myself for thinking I'd understand the people I defend just by reading psychology books."

"So," the blonde girl asked, curious, "what's your favorite game so far?"

Amber gasped. "I cannot tell you my favorite method of manipulation..." then added slyly, "...but you can."

Lilith hummed, amused. "My favorite would be Why Don't You—Yes But."

Amber nodded knowingly. "Such a common one."

It was the kind of pattern that looked like conversation but never really was.

Someone listed their problems, invited advice like it mattered—and then rejected every suggestion with a soft wall of yes, but.

Again and again. It wasn't about solving anything.

It was about staying exactly where you were, holding the illusion of helplessness like a safety net. A loop disguised as vulnerability.

At least, that's the only way Berne saw it.

"But how wrongly portrayed though," Lilith added, eyes soft with thought.

"Really?" Amber leaned in, curious.

"Yeah... he talks about it like it's only a form of self-sabotage. But what if I just know the advice is stupid?" Lilith's words were quiet but sure. "He makes people sound like chess pieces. One motive, one role. But black-and-white thinking is the first thing we unlearn in therapy."

She trailed off, a slight blush warming her face.

Psychology was her playground. And this book in particular... It made her think. It made her disagree.

When she thought about the Why Don't You—Yes But game, she couldn't help but frown a little. It was easy to just hate on all the people who used or lived within that so-called game—it simplified them, boxed them in. And when you did that, your perspective narrowed.

Psychology wasn't just one statement. It wasn't one motive or one diagnosis. It was messy. It was layered. And people—people were more than roles in a pattern.

Amber's expression had shifted—flickered with something like realization.

"Ohhh. A psychology student, right?"

Lilith nodded, her thoughts still simmering. Amber, however, continued, eyes glinting with curiosity.

"So, you're saying I shouldn't take any advice from this book?" she asked, leaning in a little closer.

Lilith rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, thinking.

"It's worth reading—but is it entirely accurate?

I'm not so sure." She smiled softly, adding, "Psychology evolves every day, but there's something interesting about seeing how people understood things back then—if you can overlook the way he portrays women.

" She giggled lightly, knowing the implications were anything but subtle.

Amber's brow quirked. "I can challenge people with the Why Don't You—Yes But method then."

Lilith nodded, feeling the familiar spark of a good conversation. "Exactly. Eric Berne forgot people who are just smart exist." Her tone wasn't entirely serious, but there was a certain glint in her eyes that made it clear she believed it.

Amber sat up, eyes scanning Lilith with an almost analytical focus. "I like you."

"Thank you?" Lilith blinked, cheeks flushing softly under Amber's gaze.

"I'm sorry," Amber continued, clearly trying to keep things light. "I never really caught how you and Valentina actually met. I only remember the broken vase."

Lilith shrugged with a small smile. "She's my brother's boss, and yeah, it just kind of happened.

" She really didn't know how everything had happened.

If she were being honest, it felt like she'd been drawn into a whirlwind, one that started with an embarrassing mishap in Valentina's office and only spiraled from there.

Amber seemed satisfied with the answer, though. She gathered her books into her arms, ready to leave. "Work's calling, but you should join us sometime."

Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

"Yeah," Amber said softly, her smile playful. "I'm sure Valentina will be interested in the Games People Play too." She winked lightly at Lilith.

Lilith's lips curled into a soft, amused smile, the mention of Valentina always managing to stir something inside her. "I'll think about it," she said, though she wasn't sure if Amber was serious—or just teasing.

But part of Lilith wished she could be near Valentina again. Rambling about some obscure psychology book. Letting her thoughts spill without filter. And have those pretty green eyes focused on her like she was the only thing in the room worth listening to.

Even if she wasn't.