Lilian hadn't expected Morrison to fall asleep before the takeout even arrived.
All she'd done was step into her bedroom to take a phone call, and when she came back—there he was. Fast asleep on her couch, completely knocked out. One look and she could tell just how exhausted he must've been.
She'd seen this kind of dead-tired collapse before—her brother Dave used to pass out like that during his all-nighters, especially when he'd just taken over the total mess that was Washington Co. The kind of sleep where your head hits the pillow—or in this case, her throw cushion—and you're gone.
But the problem was... now that he was asleep, she was the one left wide awake and frustrated.
It was already getting dark outside, and judging by how out of it he looked, Morrison was probably going to be out cold for a good while—maybe even until morning.
So what now?
Was she supposed to let him stay over?
A single man and a single woman... alone in her apartment... and him of all people—shameless, arrogant, and way too comfortable pushing boundaries. It didn't feel safe at all.
But what else could she do?
He looked completely worn out. She couldn't just wake him up and kick him out like some heartless villain.
So she sat on the other end of the couch, brows furrowed in thought, waiting for the takeout and racking her brain for a solution. And finally—ding!—inspiration struck.
Fine. If he had to stay... then she would leave.
When the delivery arrived, she quietly set the bag on the table, scribbled a note, and slipped out the door.
The note
Mr. Morrison,
I had to head back to campus—something came up.
There's a microwave in the kitchen if you want to heat the food.
Please make sure to lock the door on your way out.
– Lilian
Before leaving, Lilian drew a little doodle of a smiley face next to her note—part guilt, part habit—and quietly draped the light blanket over Morrison's sleeping form. Then, without another word, she slipped out the door.
Honestly, there was nothing urgent going on at school.
She'd already submitted her second draft of the thesis and was now just waiting for her advisor to review it. There was nothing to do until the next round of revisions. Technically, she could've stayed home and relaxed. But... the idea of going back to the dorm?
No, thanks.
Not with Angela still there.
With the defense coming up and graduation just around the corner, Lilian didn't want to stir up any more drama. She'd already made up her mind: once they graduated, they'd go their separate ways. No need for more pointless fights. Everyone living their own lives peacefully was already the best outcome.
Last she heard, Angela had gotten into some grad program in Manchester. And honestly? That was a huge relief.
Thank God she wasn't sticking around Burg Eltz.
Ever since Angela passed the grad school interview, she'd been insufferable—constantly throwing shade in the dorm, making passive-aggressive comments like:
"Your family's rich anyway, so why are you even looking for a job? Just buy your way into grad school like the others. Oh wait, you're not going for grad school? Probably 'cause you suck at studying, huh?"
Every time Angela opened her mouth, it was like verbal pollution.
Lilian honestly thought she was losing her mind.
Sure, her family had money—but that didn't mean she wanted to be some spoiled leech, clinging to her parents' credit card and pretending to "study" abroad just to save face. And for the record? Her grades were excellent. Top of the class, in fact.
If she really wanted to take the easy way out and buy her way in somewhere, she totally could—but that kind of fake success? That wasn't her style.
It wasn't like she had some grand ambition, unlike so many others.
After all these years of studying, Lilian had had enough. She didn't want to keep chasing degrees or burying herself in endless exams. All she wanted was a stable job and a quiet, peaceful life.
Was that really so wrong?
Just because she didn't apply for grad school or study abroad—did that mean she was somehow inferior?
If anything, having a roommate like Angela felt like the biggest joke of her entire college experience.
Total waste of a dorm slot.
Sometimes, Lilian found herself seriously envious of Laurent. He had Vivian, Zoey, and Marylin—three loyal, amazing friends who stuck together through four whole years like ride-or-die sisters. Even now, as they all headed off in different directions after graduation, they were still as close as ever.
Sure, Lilian's other two roommates were decent, and they got along just fine. But with Angela in the mix? It felt like one rotten apple had spoiled the whole barrel.
That one single presence had made her dread going back to her own room.
Eventually, she stopped opening up to any of her dormmates. It was just safer that way. Who knew what might slip out and end up in Angela's hands? If that girl ever caught wind of something she could use, she'd twist it, weaponize it, and use it to make Lilian's life even harder.
So instead, Lilian confided in Laurent.
He was the one person she could actually trust.
After leaving her own apartment that night, she went straight to her mother's place—mainly to mooch some food, a shower, and a warm bed. Not that it was anything new. She often stayed over when she had nothing going on, so her mom, Tiffany, didn't even bat an eye.
Meanwhile…
Back at her place, Morrison finally woke up around midnight—ravenous.
Morrison woke up to complete silence.
The room was dim, almost eerily quiet. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up and called out,
"Lilian?"
No response.
Frowning slightly, he reached for his phone on the side table. Still off. Right—he'd shut it down before sleeping. Last thing he needed was work blowing up his inbox while he was trying to nap.
He powered it back on and used the screen's light to find the room's switch. As the lights flicked on, he looked around.
Empty.
She was gone.
Morrison's brow twitched. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. That little girl had probably panicked at the thought of being alone in the same apartment with him and... bailed.
Sure enough, he spotted a folded note under the takeout boxes.
He picked it up, read it—and couldn't help but let out a low laugh, equal parts annoyed and amused.
"Had to head back to campus"?
Please. It's practically graduation season. What "urgent school matter" could possibly exist?
That excuse was about as subtle as a neon sign.
But hey, she was already gone.
What could he do, chase her down?
He glanced at the microwave, then at the cold takeout. Forget it—he was starving. He reheated the food, devoured it in minutes, and was about to leave when—
Nah.
Too late. Too lazy.
Instead, he made himself right at home.
He wandered into her bedroom without a shred of guilt, plopped himself down on her ridiculously soft pink bed, pulled her comforter over himself, and sighed with satisfaction. The scent of her shampoo clung faintly to the pillow.
Not bad.
Actually... very nice.
Before long, he got curious—started checking out the rest of her place. His eyes lingered on her bookshelf, the little trinkets on the vanity, and eventually... yes, the wardrobe.
Based on what he'd felt earlier when they kissed—yes, he absolutely remembered that—his mental estimate of her size was pretty accurate.
But the style?
Too conservative. Way too boring.
If she was trying to be attractive, it clearly wasn't working on purpose. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
And then—just for fun—he climbed back into bed, flipped the covers over his bare chest, grabbed his phone, and snapped a photo.
A very specific kind of photo.
One where he was lying in her pink bed, under her blanket, head resting on her pillow—with a very smug, shirtless grin on his face.
He sent it to her without a single caption.
The message was loud and clear.