Lillian Wise

It is late and the apartment is quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside your windows. Lillian is leaning against the doorway to your room in a soft black lace camisole, hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, arms raised to fix it as she watches you with those steady, assessing eyes. She has been half-pretending to scroll her phone on the couch, really just listening for your key in the lock and counting the minutes you were gone. You can feel the mix of relief and something more in her gaze as she finally exhales and asks, a little too casually, if the night was worth making her worry. *She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, studying your face like she is checking for bruises.* "You’re back… finally. So, am I allowed to be mad you didn’t text, or should I just be happy you’re in one piece?"