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Lilith's apartment was a reflection of her mind—warm, lived-in, and a little chaotic.

Small but undeniably cozy, it carried the scent of old books, vanilla candles, and the remnants of chamomile tea.

Stacks of psychology notes, case studies, and statistical printouts were scattered across her wooden desk and coffee table, some pages marked with frantic scribbles, others left abandoned in half-highlighted thoughts.

A few empty cups sat beside them, proof of late-night study sessions that stretched too long into dawn.

Despite the clutter, Lilith loved her space.

She had filled it with warmth—soft blankets draped over the couch, dim golden lamps instead of harsh white lights, and an old wooden bookshelf that leaned slightly to the right but still held her growing collection of psychology texts and novels.

Candles were placed in nearly every corner, their wax drippings marking the passage of time.

It was the kind of place meant to be curled up in, a small sanctuary against the world outside.

Tonight, however, she wasn't staying in.

She glanced at her reflection in the standing mirror, her long blonde hair straightened and falling sleekly over her shoulders.

The oversized leather jacket she wore hung a little too loose on her small frame, while the delicate lacy white dress underneath was delicate, feminine—a contrast to the harsher edge of the jacket.

It clung to her body in a way that accentuated her full curves, the softness of her hips, thighs, and breasts.

She was on the shorter side, though she probably wasn't meant to be.

Both her parents were tall, yet she had never quite reached their height.

Maybe it was the aftermath of not eating enough as a teenager, the result of bad habits she had yet to completely unlearn.

Not that it mattered now. She had grown into herself, even if she still felt small in more ways than just height.

She pulled her jacket sleeves down over her hands, but it didn't quite hide the faint, shallow cuts on her pale fingers—tiny reminders of her humiliation in Valentina's office.

She had barely noticed them at the time, too consumed by embarrassment, but now they stung when she pressed against them, a dull ache beneath the skin.

With a final sigh, she grabbed her purse and stepped out into the night.

?

Music pulsed through the air, a deep bass vibrating in her chest as neon lights flickered overhead.

The crowd moved together in waves, bodies pressed too close, conversations drowned beneath the beat of the song.

Lilith much preferred quieter bars, the ones where you could sit in a corner with a glass of wine and whine about life without having to shout over the music.

But tonight wasn't about comfort—it was about distraction.

Gabrielle was already waiting at the bar when Lilith arrived, two drinks in hand and an amused smirk on her lips. They settled into their usual rhythm easily, sipping their drinks and trading stories, the night slipping into something almost enjoyable—until a stranger interrupted.

"Hey," the woman said, smiling as she leaned against the bar beside Lilith.

Her messy hair framed her face in wild curls, and her pupils were slightly blown—she was clearly on something.

A smudge of lipstick clung to the corner of her mouth, like she had either forgotten to check a mirror or simply didn't care. "Can I buy you another drink?"

Lilith offered a polite smile, shaking her head. "I'm good, thank you."

The woman didn't take the hint. "Then how about your number?"

She hesitated for only a second before responding, voice still gentle. "I appreciate it, but I'm not interested."

She wasn't her type.

It wasn't about appearance—women were always beautiful, each in their own way.

But Lilith knew what she wanted, and the stranger in front of her wasn't it.

It wasn't about the way she looked, the way she smiled or carried herself.

It was something deeper, something instinctual.

The woman felt too chaotic, like someone who would bring more storm than shelter. And Lilith needed peace.

She had spent years thinking about this, about the kind of love she craved.

It wasn't something fleeting, a moment in a dark club with a stranger's hands on her waist. She wanted permanence.

Depth. A connection that didn't burn out after a few passionate nights.

And maybe that made her naive—sometimes, she even felt embarrassed by it.

She was a smart girl, always had been, but when it came to love, she let herself be foolish.

Even if it meant being alone forever, she wouldn't settle for less than something real.

Some people didn't know what they wanted. Lilith did.

She needed intelligence, a woman who could take the weight off her shoulders rather than add to it.

Someone sharp but steady, someone who could see the exhaustion she carried and offer something other than more chaos.

When people said they didn't have an ideal type, Lilith could never relate—she could go on for hours about what she wanted.

Maybe that was part of the problem. She planned everything, thought too much, held herself to impossible standards.

She exhaled, offering the woman one last polite nod before turning back to Gabrielle, who was watching her with knowing amusement.

"Not your type?" Gabrielle teased.

Lilith just smiled, shaking her head. "Not even close."

Gabrielle took a slow sip of her drink, eyes glinting with amusement as she leaned in slightly. "You know," she drawled, "one night with a stranger wouldn't be a sin."

Lilith rolled her eyes, swirling the remnants of her drink in her glass. "It definitely wouldn't be with that particular stranger."

Gabrielle let out a laugh, tipping her head back. "Fair enough."

The night melted into something soft and hazy, the alcohol warming their veins as they drank, slow but steady, losing track of time in the flashing lights of the club. But it wasn't long before they both grew tired of the noise, of the suffocating press of bodies.

"Let's go somewhere else?" Lilith suggested pouting, already knowing exactly where the night would lead.

Gabrielle smirked, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Cheapest vodka we can find?"

"Always."

They stumbled into the nearest convenience store, giggling as they scanned the shelves for the cheapest bottle of vodka and a fruity drink to soften the burn.

Then, as tradition dictated, they found a random bench in a quiet, dimly lit street and settled in for the night's real conversations.

Lilith lay across Gabrielle's lap, the world spinning pleasantly around her. She took a sip from the bottle before passing it back, letting out a small sigh as Gabrielle's fingers absently played with her hair. The repetitive motion was soothing, tugging her further into the drunken haze.

Without thinking, Lilith turned slightly and bit Gabrielle's thigh—just a quick, playful nip.

Gabrielle yelped, swatting her lightly. "You little menace."

Lilith burst into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth as if that could stop the sound. She was properly tipsy now, limbs loose, thoughts slipping from her mouth before she could think them through.

"Wanna hear something?" she asked, voice sweet with amusement.

Gabrielle hummed, lazily twirling a strand of Lilith's hair around her finger. "Spill."

Lilith took a deep breath, still giggling as she tried to piece the story together in her mind.

If she were sober, she wouldn't be laughing about this—wouldn't be talking about it at all.

"Okay, so..." She let out a dramatic sigh.

"Let me tell you about the most embarrassing moment of my life. "

Gabrielle snorted. "That's a bold statement, considering your track record."

Lilith ignored her. "So, I was at Oscar's company, right? And I was just... wandering around like an idiot, because I thought it was okay. And there was this woman—God, Gabrielle, she was so fucking hot—and she let me into this office. Didn't say a word about who she was."

Gabrielle just giggled, shaking her head as she took another sip of her drink.

"And then," Lilith continued, dragging out the words, "she suddenly switched.

Told me to get out. And I—I panicked.

" She covered her face, dissolving into giggles again before peeking out between her fingers.

"I tripped, broke this really expensive-looking vase, and then—" She wheezed.

"Then she stomped on the red roses that were in it. "

Gabrielle stared at her for a moment, eyes hazy from the alcohol. Then, her expression softened. "My poor Lili," she murmured, voice warm and affectionate.

Lilith pouted, pressing her face against Gabrielle's lap. "It was so bad."

Gabrielle ran a comforting hand through her hair, sighing. "You really do have the worst luck."

Lilith hummed, letting her eyes drift closed for a second. The alcohol had her thoughts slipping into places she usually ignored, feelings she usually buried under the weight of school, responsibilities, and her own relentless overthinking.

She had always tried to fix things—fix situations, fix people, fix herself.

Her own mistakes, other people's choices, things that weren't even in her control.

She needed things to be right, to be balanced, to be something she could understand and make sense of.

And right now, all she could think about was the woman, the way the situation had spiraled, the way she had left things.

She opened her eyes, staring up at Gabrielle, voice suddenly small.

"Do you think I should buy her red roses? As an apology?"

Gabrielle blinked, pulling back slightly. "Wait—what?"

Lilith was the sweetest girl alive, always too quick to blame herself, too eager to smooth things over even when she didn't have to. Gabrielle adored that about her, but sometimes, she had to step in—because if she didn't, Lilith would probably apologize to a storm for raining on her.

Lilith swallowed. "I mean, I did break her vase. And she stomped on the roses. Maybe if I got her new ones, it would..." She trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Fix it.

Gabrielle exhaled, shaking her head with a small laugh. "Lili, no. She sounds like a mean bitch."

Lilith blinked up at her, lips parting slightly. "She was... I mean—"

"No" Gabrielle cut her off, wagging a finger. "Listen. You don't owe her anything."

Lilith frowned, chewing on her lip. The thought of leaving things as they were made her chest feel tight. Maybe Gabrielle was right.

But Lilith didn't always listen. And this time, she felt like she had to fix it.