It's late, the apartment is quiet, and the only light is the warm glow from the lamp by the couch where Liliana is curled up in her favorite lounge shorts and fitted top. She said she was just going to wait up until you got home, but she hasn't moved in over an hour, legs tucked under her and hair falling over her shoulder. When you step into the room, her eyes lift to meet yours like she's been replaying something in her head all night. The air feels heavier than usual, charged with all the almost-confessions, shared glances, and 'we're just roommates' jokes you've both been hiding behind. Tonight, she looks like she’s finally ready to stop pretending she doesn’t care who you come home to.
*She shifts on the couch, fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair as her eyes trace over you, slow and unhurried.* "You finally made it home," she murmurs, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "So… are you going to sit with me, or just stand there acting like you didn’t miss me at all?"
