Page 24

''Lilith.''

The blonde-haired girl flinched at the sound of her name, the voice behind it sharp with tension, as she walked out of the building

Oscar.

Lilith turned around slowly, head tilted in a quiet attempt to ease whatever storm was already forming behind her brother's eyes. But as soon as she saw the way his brows were furrowed—tight and unforgiving—she knew this wasn't going to go down easy.

"You promised me something," Oscar said, like the sight of his sister was an answer to a question he didn't even want to ask.

Lilith swallowed, guilt flickering through her like a cold wind. "I know. I'm sorry. But—"

"You promised me something," he repeated, this time louder, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

Her expression darkened slightly, brows furrowing in return. "But I'm not doing anything wrong, I swear." Her voice came out soft, pleading almost, like she could still find a way to calm the storm before it broke.

All she had done was eat a piece of cake and help Valentina with her schedule.

Oscar's arms crossed. "Don't you think it's a little unprofessional?" he asked, voice lower now, like disappointment sat heavier than anger. "God, Lili. I asked you for one thing."

Before she could respond, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like it physically hurt to say it.

"I don't trust you, Lilith," he said. Then louder—firmer—"Not with that."

Her eyes widened, shock and heat rushing to her cheeks. She hadn't expected a full-blown argument today—not like this.

"What could I possibly do that would be so fucking bad?" Lilith snapped, voice caught somewhere between confusion and defense.

"I don't know," Oscar said, shrugging slightly, almost bitter. "But you know yourself better than anyone else."

"What are you trying to say?" she asked, quieter now, because something about the way he said it felt worse than the words themselves.

"I'm trying to say that you fuck things up, Lilith. You ruin things sometimes. And whatever is going on—whatever this is—it needs to end. Get it?"

The laugh that escaped her mouth was bitter, mirthless. "Ask your boss if I bother her," she snapped. "Go ahead. Ask her. Let's see what she says."

Oscar tipped his head back with another sigh. "Stop acting childish."

"I'm acting childish? I didn't keep my promise, and I am so sorry, but your reaction? It's wrong as fuck, Oscar."

"You're acting like mom right now. You don't listen."

The words hit her like a slap—unexpected, cold, and cruel.

"You're joking, right?" she asked, her voice thin and quiet, but the betrayal in her eyes was deafening.

Comparing anyone from the family to this woman had always been a firm, unwritten rule—a boundary everyone, over the years, had learned not to cross.

It wasn't just insensitive. It was cruel.

And to do it now, in a moment that didn't even seem like the end of the world to Lilith, felt so painfully unnecessary—so deeply awful—it left her stunned.

The blonde-haired girl turned around to leave, already reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone and call an Uber.

?

Lilith sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest and a blanket thrown over her legs that she didn't remember grabbing.

The room was dim—only the soft flickering of the TV lit the space, casting warm shapes across the walls, though the movie playing on the screen had long slipped from her attention.

She had been looking forward to this night all week. A film she'd waited months to watch.

But the air felt heavier now. Everything had a bitter aftertaste.

Her hand moved in agitated strokes through her hair, a brush dragging without care or gentleness.

When she hit a knot somewhere behind her head, she winced and nearly yanked the whole clump out.

She swore under her breath, fingers tightening around the handle of the brush like she might actually throw it.

Out the window, against the wall—anywhere far from her hand and this moment.

She let out a sigh, deep and exhausted, and set the brush down beside her.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been on bad terms with everyone in her family—it left her feeling unanchored, like even the ground beneath her had turned against her.

Oscar was furious with her—and fine, she could live with that for now. But it wasn't just him.

Her dad had called six times since she left the hospital.

She ignored them all. She was still too angry to hear his voice.

Telling her mother she'd stop by, putting her in that position without warning, forcing them to meet like it was something casual—it was still a thing that made her roll her eyes.

And then, of course, there was her mother.

But that wasn't new. That wasn't even worth unpacking anymore.

A part of her felt guilty.

Not a large part, not consuming—but it was there, curling around the edge of her chest. Guilt for breaking her promise to Oscar, for not being more careful.

But the rest?

She refused to carry blame for any of it.

She hadn't done anything wrong. Realistically. Logically. Truthfully.

She'd eaten a stupid piece of cake and helped Valentina sort out a schedule. That was all. And if her brother hadn't jumped to conclusions with all that misplaced anger, maybe she would've had a chance to explain.

But Oscar didn't give her that.

He didn't want to understand. He wanted to scold. He wanted to corner her like she was reckless—like she was still the girl who made everything worse just by being involved.

And maybe she had been that girl, once. But she wasn't anymore.

Right after she ordered the Uber earlier, her first instinct had been to go to Daniel and Olivia's place. Spend the night there. Pretend none of this mattered.

But the second the thought came, she cringed.

That wasn't how she wanted to handle things.

So she stayed here, biting softly at the edge of her thumb, not enough to draw blood but enough to feel something.

She opened her contacts.

Scrolled slowly.

Stopped when she reached Valentina's name.

Lilith just wanted to know if she was bothering her.

It sounded so small in her mind, almost pathetic, but the question gnawed at her more than anything else.

Was she a problem? Was she crossing some unspoken line?

Lilith stared at her phone screen, thumb hovering uncertainly over the message she had typed out.

The blue light of the screen lit her face in the darkened room, flickering like doubt itself.

Her heart felt too loud in the quiet, like it shouldn't be beating this fast over something as simple as a text.

It was late. Too late for things that weren't urgent. She imagined Valentina somewhere across the city—maybe already in bed, maybe reading something on a couch, maybe doing something important and far away from Lilith's orbit.

Still, she wanted to know. She just wanted to ask.

That had always been her curse—needing clarity, even when silence would be easier.

Her thumb pressed send before she could second-guess it.

''hi, i know it's late but could i call? i just wanted to ask something.''

She didn't even have time to place her phone down.

The screen lit up again, vibrating softly on her thigh.

Lilith blinked, her heartbeat faltering. She hesitated, suddenly aware of how warm her skin felt. Then she answered.

There was a beat of silence, and then—

"Is everything alright?"

Valentina's voice came through the speaker, low and unmistakably hers.

It had a rasp to it, a softer texture that made Lilith pause.

She wondered if she'd woken her, or if maybe the woman had been speaking to someone else, or maybe—maybe the rasp was just something the phone did to voices.

It didn't matter. It still made something stir in Lilith's chest.

"I—hi," she said softly, trying to shake the nerves from her voice. "I'm sorry. It's really late."

"It's okay, sweetheart," Valentina said without missing a beat.

Lilith exhaled slowly.

There was always something about talking to Valentina that made Lilith feel like she had to shrink herself just a little, like there was a way she should be speaking. She always felt like she was chasing a certain tone. It wasn't even intentional. It just happened.

Maybe that's how she was with everyone.

Still, she hated the way her voice came out—uncertain and small.

"I'm not sure how to say this..." she began, fingers brushing over her knee. "I just—am I bothering you?"

There was a pause. Not long. Just enough to make her heart tighten.

"You're not," Valentina said. Her voice was steady, but Lilith couldn't read the undercurrent without her face—without her eyes.

It felt unfair, suddenly, how much she missed Valentina's expressions. The little nods. The way her brow moved. Her silences weren't harsh in person—they were full of meaning. But now, through the phone, everything felt thinner. Fragile.

"I mean... overall," Lilith clarified, chewing gently on her thumb. "Not just now."

"You're not bothering me, Lilith," Valentina said again, slower this time. Then, with just a hint of confusion, "Why would you think that?"

She swallowed the tightness in her throat.

"I was just wondering. And I was also talking to, um... Oscar."

The second the words left her lips, her stomach sank. She closed her eyes and winced. God. Why had she said his name?

Of all the things she could've led with.

"Did he say that?"

Lilith nearly groaned.

"No—no, I mean, I just—" she rushed, voice stumbling over itself. "I was thinking about it. It wasn't something he said."

Lilith didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to go down that path either.

She breathed out a short laugh—humorless and tired.

"I know it probably sounds really stupid. Like, if I actually was bothering you, you'd probably just say it. But also, you wouldn't have to. And I guess I started wondering, and I didn't want to assume—"

She caught herself. Her voice had grown soft and uneven again.

"Sorry," she whispered.

She hadn't meant to ramble. Or maybe she had. Either way, the apology was automatic.

Valentina laughed softly—warm, effortless, and without a hint of judgment or mockery.

"It's okay, hmm?" she murmured, the sound low and intimate, sending a subtle thrill through Lilith's chest. In that moment, Lilith looked like a love-struck puppy—completely caught off guard by how effortlessly Valentina shifted the mood away from any awkwardness or embarrassment.

Clearing her throat, Valentina changed the subject smoothly. "You know, the theatre is opening next Friday. I thought you might want to come."

Lilith's eyes widened, her voice immediate and eager. "I would love to. Is it just an opening or..." she trailed off, caught in curiosity.

"They'll put on a play. My favorite one," Valentina said, a small smile hidden in her voice.

"What is it?" Lilith asked, dropping the nervous biting of her nails and cuticles. She laid back on the couch, cradling the phone near her ear against a soft decorative pillow, settling in for the conversation.

"The Picture of Dorian Gray," Valentina answered.

Lilith giggled softly, a playful spark lighting her tone. "That was so obvious."

"Oh, really?" Valentina murmured, feigning offense in her voice.

"Mhm, but don't worry—it's one of my favorite books too," Lilith replied, smiling despite knowing Valentina couldn't see it.

"Now that I think about it... you might actually be Dorian Gray—but in designer heels."

Valentina was quick with her comeback. "Please. I haven't ruined anyone's life or committed murder..." There was a beat of silence before she added, dryly, "This week."

Lilith's smile lingered, amused. "So where do you keep your cursed portrait?"

Valentina hummed thoughtfully for a moment before replying, "Obviously in the guest room. She needs privacy and low humidity."

Lilith glanced at her phone, and her smile faltered.

"Fuck," she muttered, barely above a whisper.

It was 2 a.m.

"I'm sorry—um, God, it's so late," she rushed, already mentally scolding herself for the curse and the realization. Her eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment.

"Mhmm," Valentina hummed.

Lilith pressed her face into the pillow. "What time do you wake up?" she asked quietly, half-praying the woman had the day off, half-praying she hadn't just ruined Valentina's night with a phone call over a spiraling thought.

"Five," Valentina replied without hesitation, a soft smile tugging at her lips, clearly entertained by how the girl seemed to panic over something so minor.

"You need to sleep," Lilith blurted out, then immediately corrected herself, "I mean—you should sleep."

Valentina let out a low laugh, gentle and composed. "You should sleep too, Lilith."

A pause, and then her voice softened into something that sounded like silk. "Sleep well, yeah?"

Lilith nodded instinctively, even though Valentina couldn't see it. "Yes. Goodnight, Valentina."

She ended the call with a quiet exhale, the silence that followed almost too loud.

But Lilith didn't sleep.

Not even close.

She lay there, the weight of the night pressing into her chest, her thoughts spinning fast and unfiltered. She kept thinking of Valentina.

And if Lilith was being honest with herself...

It concerned her.

?

"I'm not doing that, Rhys."

The man sitting across from Valentina let out a dramatic whine, tilting his head back as he slouched deep into the chair.

His legs spread wide in a careless, almost childish way, which struck an odd contrast against his tall, muscular frame and the impeccably tailored suit he wore.

It was an amusingly juvenile gesture—one that made Valentina suppress a small, dry smile even as she kept her gaze steady and unreadable.

"But you need to, Valentina," he insisted, voice softening with an almost coaxing edge, as if trying to convince a stubborn child.

Valentina's eyes didn't waver from his. "I don't need to do anything," she said firmly, the finality of her words hanging between them like an unbreakable wall. There was no room for argument—none at all.

Rhys groaned, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Please, Valentina. Please. I'm begging you. I'm groveling," he said with exaggerated earnestness, voice dripping with theatrical desperation.

"You're whining," Valentina replied without hesitation, her tone calm but edged with amusement.

Yet Rhys refused to relent. "No, I'm pleading—from the depths. My soul is on the floor," he said dramatically, his voice lowered as if confessing some grave, tragic truth.

Valentina looked over at him then, eyes rolling slowly in a way that was equal parts exasperation and affection. "Careful," she warned, "that carpet was expensive."

Without breaking eye contact, she reached for a pen lying on the corner of her desk, intent on returning to her work and ending the conversation.

But before she could even pick it up, Rhys's hand shot out and snatched the pen away with a triumphant grin that made her look up sharply, eyebrows raised.

"Fine," Rhys said, mock defeated, "I'll call Amber then."—as if she’d be the one to sway Valentina, though they both knew she had no real chance.

"Be my guest. I'll wait," Valentina answered, her voice steady and unbothered, clearly confident that the conversation was over.

Rhys let out a long sigh that sounded like a child denied a favorite toy, then tried one last time. "One little favor?" he asked, hope flickering in his eyes.

Valentina's smile stretched slowly across her face, sharp and amused, as if she were savoring the moment. "One big 'no,'" she said, voice dripping with playful cruelty.

Rhys's playful tone faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious. "I'll come later this week," he said, standing up and straightening his suit with deliberate precision. His smile lingered, softer now—almost encouraging. "Think about it."

Without waiting for a response, he gathered his documents in a practiced motion, smoothing out creases as he moved toward the door. The subtle click of his polished shoes on the floor echoed softly through the office as he left, the door closing behind him with a quiet finality.

Valentina was alone again.

She let out a slow, measured sigh—not one of irritation, but of reluctant acceptance. If she had known just how much the theatre opening would disrupt her carefully balanced schedule, she might have thought twice before agreeing.

Especially knowing that one detail—one small, inconvenient detail —that made her roll her eyes in private.