Chapter 1: Who is this?
Lila lay stretched across the length of her living room sofa, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other resting against her stomach. The late afternoon light spilled in through the tall windows, casting soft gold across the minimalist space she’d designed so carefully—clean lines, neutral tones, nothing unnecessary.
It was exactly how she liked it.
Quiet. Controlled. Hers.
A half-empty glass sat on the table nearby, untouched for the past hour. Her phone rested face-down beside it, silent. No notifications, no obligations, no one expecting anything from her. Three years ago, that kind of silence had felt like freedom.
Now it just felt… familiar.
Too familiar.
She exhaled slowly, eyes tracing the ceiling as if something might have changed since the last time she looked. It hadn’t. Nothing ever did, unless she made it happen—and lately, she hadn’t felt like making anything happen at all.
That was the strange part.
She had everything she used to think mattered. Time. Money. Space. No boss, no schedule, no one to answer to. She remembered the rush when it all clicked into place—the charts, the trades, the moment she realized she’d crossed the line into “never need to work again.”
It had been intoxicating.
But that feeling didn’t last.
Her fingers tapped idly against her stomach, slow, absent-minded. She wasn’t bored exactly. Bored implied restlessness, a desire to fill the time.
This was different.
It was more like… nothing was worth the effort.
Lila turned her head slightly, eyes drifting toward the city beyond her window. People moved out there—fast, purposeful, caught in lives she had deliberately stepped away from. She used to think they were trapped.
Maybe they were.
But at least they felt something.
A faint, almost amused smile touched her lips at the thought. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be lying here, questioning a life most people would kill for, she would’ve laughed.
She didn’t laugh now.
Instead, she shifted slightly on the couch, adjusting for comfort that never quite came, and closed her eyes.
For a moment, she just listened—to the quiet, to her own breathing, to the stillness she had once chased so badly.
And for the first time in a while, a small, unwelcome thought slipped through:
There has to be something more than this.
…and just as her eyes began to drift shut—
A soft vibration broke the silence.
Her brow tightened slightly.
For a moment, she ignored it. The phone had been quiet all day, like it usually was. Whatever it was, it could wait. Everything could wait.
The vibration came again. Short. Insistent.
Lila exhaled through her nose, turning her head toward the table. The screen lit up faintly against the dimming room.
1 new message.
She stared at it for a second longer than necessary, as if deciding whether it was worth the effort. Then, slowly, she reached over and picked up the phone, the glass surface cool against her fingers.
Unknown number.
That alone was unusual.
She didn’t get random messages. Not anymore. The people who had her number either knew better than to waste her time—or had stopped reaching out entirely.
Her thumb hovered for just a second… then tapped.
The message opened.
Is this Lila?
She read it once.
Then again.
No name. No context. Just that.
A faint crease formed between her brows. It wasn’t urgent, wasn’t dramatic—but something about it felt… deliberate. Like whoever sent it expected a reply. Like they knew she’d see it.
Lila shifted slightly on the couch, her earlier stillness gone, replaced by a subtle alertness.
“Who is this…” she murmured under her breath, more to herself than anything.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
She could ignore it. Probably should. Unknown numbers rarely brought anything worth her time.
And yet…
Her eyes lingered on the message.
Is this Lila?
Simple.
Direct.
Patient.
Without fully realizing why, she straightened just a little, her attention now completely pulled in—a sharp contrast to the dull emptiness from moments before.
It was nothing.
Just a message.
So why did it feel like the first interesting thing that had happened all day?
Her thumb moved before she could overthink it.
She started typing.
Yes. Who is this?
She hit send before she could second-guess it.
For a few seconds, nothing.
Then—
typing…
Lila’s eyes narrowed slightly, her focus sharpening.
Hey, I’m Liam. I’m sorry, you probably don’t know who I am. I got your number from a friend of ours. Mia?
Mia.
That made her pause.
She shifted a little on the couch, interest quietly replacing the earlier emptiness. Mia wasn’t someone who gave out her number lightly.
Her fingers hovered over the screen again, a faint curiosity settling in.
Now that… was unexpected.
She didn’t have to wait long.
typing…
Then the next message came through.
I’m… maybe it’s stupid, but I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I didn’t text you.
I asked for your number after I saw you in one of the photos you had with her.
Then Mia said you were single…
Lila blinked once, the corner of her mouth twitching faintly.
So that’s what this was.
She leaned back into the couch, phone still in her hand, suddenly a little more awake than she had been all day. Of all the messages she could’ve gotten… this wasn’t one she expected.
Bold.
Or reckless.
Maybe both.
Her thumb brushed lightly against the side of her phone as she reread it, slower this time. There was something almost awkward about the way he wrote it—but not in a bad way. More like he hadn’t planned it out. Like he just… did it.
That, at least, felt real.
She exhaled quietly, eyes lingering on his name.
Liam.
A stranger—technically.
And yet, not entirely.
For a moment, she just looked at the screen, weighing nothing in particular… and still taking her time.
Then her fingers moved again.
Her message came quickly this time.
Before I say anything… maybe I could get a photo of you?
She sent it without hesitation, her expression calm—but her attention fully locked in now.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then—
typing…
Lila shifted slightly, resting her head back against the couch, eyes fixed on the screen. A small, almost amused breath left her.
Direct.
If he was going to be bold, she wasn’t about to be any less.
The typing stopped.
A pause.
Then a notification popped up.
Image received.
Her fingers stilled for just a moment before she tapped it open.
The photo loaded.
He wasn’t anything spectacular—no carefully staged pose, no obvious effort to impress. Just… normal. But there was something about that simplicity that worked. Relaxed. Unforced.
Cute, in his own way.
Lila felt a small smile form before she even noticed it.
Interesting.
Her thumb hovered for only a second this time.
So… what exactly did you want to talk about?
She sent it, settling a little deeper into the couch, the quiet of the room no longer quite as heavy as before.
The reply came quicker this time, like he hadn’t needed to think about it.
I just thought you were really cute… and yeah. I’ve never been good with women, to be honest.
Lila let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head slightly.
At least he was honest.
That alone already set him apart from most. No lines, no pretending—just… awkward, straightforward truth.
Her smile lingered as she looked at the screen, a flicker of amusement mixing with something a little more curious.
Maybe this wouldn’t be boring after all.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her reply coming a bit easier now.
That’s a surprisingly strong opening for someone who says that.
Better to make a fool of yourself than never try. That’s actually Mia’s words.
Lila let out a soft breath through her nose, a faint smile returning.
“Sounds like her,” she murmured.
Her eyes lingered on the message a moment longer. There was something disarming about it—the lack of polish, the quiet confidence hiding under the awkwardness.
He wasn’t trying to impress her.
And somehow… that worked.
She shifted slightly, tucking one leg under herself, the phone steady in her hand.
She does like giving questionable advice,
she typed, pausing just a beat before adding—
So tell me… was this her idea, or yours?
A small test.
Nothing serious.
But enough to see what kind of person he actually was.
She didn’t want to give it to me. You see… I’m five years younger than you.
Lila raised an eyebrow slightly, the corner of her lips curling again.
That explained it.
“Mia…” she muttered under her breath, already imagining the conversation that must’ve happened.
Her gaze stayed on the message, but her expression shifted—just a little. Not dismissive. Not uninterested.
Just… more attentive.
Five years wasn’t nothing.
But it wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker either.
Her thumb traced the edge of her phone for a second before she replied.
So you had to convince her?
A pause.
Then, after a beat—
That usually means you really wanted to text me.
She did speak of you often, and I wanted to get to know you :)
Lila’s eyes lingered on the message, her earlier smile softening into something quieter.
Mia talked about her?
That was… unexpected.
She shifted slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her attention now fully pulled in. The conversation had started as a distraction—but it didn’t feel like one anymore.
There was something about the way he wrote. Careful, a little unsure—but genuine.
She glanced at his photo again, just for a second.
Then back to the chat.
You’re either very brave… or very curious,
she typed.
A pause.
What exactly did she say about me?
This time, she didn’t lean back.
She stayed exactly where she was—watching the screen, waiting.
How weird it wouldn’t sound, I won’t find a wife material if I don’t try to annoy Mia a bit from time to time.
Lila blinked—then let out a soft, genuine laugh.
“Wife material?” she repeated under her breath, amused.
That was… bold.
Not in a smooth way. Not in a rehearsed way. Just dropped there, casually, like he didn’t fully realize how it sounded.
Or maybe he did.
Her smile lingered a little longer this time, something warmer slipping in.
That’s a very serious goal for a first message,
she typed.
She paused, just a second—then added:
And here I thought you were just curious.
Her eyes flicked briefly to his photo again before returning to the chat, her interest now unmistakably there.
I realise that at your age you wouldn’t be looking for “fun” so I just wanted to… you know
Lila stared at the screen for a second.
Then she let out a short laugh—half amused, half surprised.
“At your age?” she muttered, shaking her head.
That was bold in a completely different way.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no irritation in them—just curiosity, and a hint of playful disbelief.
Confident enough to text her.
Awkward enough to say that.
Interesting combination.
She shifted, sitting up a little more now, her attention fully locked in.
Careful,
she typed.
A brief pause.
You’re starting to sound like you’ve already figured me out.
Her thumb hovered, then added one more line—
That would be a mistake.
This time, a faint smile stayed on her lips as she waited.
Oh, I didn’t mean you were old or anything!
Another message followed almost immediately—
It’s just…
Lila smiled to herself, a quiet, amused exhale slipping out.
Now he was backtracking.
Fast.
She could almost see it—him realizing what he’d said, trying to fix it before it landed the wrong way. It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t calculated.
It was real.
And for some reason, that made it better.
She shifted slightly, resting her elbow against the arm of the couch, her fingers lightly supporting her head as she watched the screen.
Waiting.
Curious what he’d say next.
Her earlier boredom was completely gone now—replaced by something lighter, sharper.
Engaging.
Her thumb moved, just a little nudge:
Relax,
she typed.
You’ve already committed. You might as well finish that sentence.
A small smile lingered as she hit send.
Women your age already think about starting families, and I just wanted to point out I’m not planning to get into your life and waste you a few years.
Lila read it once.
Then again.
The smile faded—but not into anything negative. Just… thoughtful.
That wasn’t what she expected.
No flirting. No trying to impress her. Just a strangely sincere line of thinking, laid out a little clumsily—but honestly.
He wasn’t trying to win her.
He was trying not to be a problem.
That was new.
She shifted slightly, her fingers resting still against the phone as she looked at his words, something quieter settling in her expression.
Three years alone.
No expectations. No complications.
Exactly how she wanted it.
…wasn’t it?
Her thumb hovered for a moment longer this time.
Then—
That’s very considerate of you,
she typed.
A pause.
But you’re making a lot of assumptions about what I want.
She watched the message for a second before adding one more line:
What if I’m not looking for anything serious either?
This time, she didn’t lean back.
She stayed still—eyes on the screen, waiting.
Then hopefully I’ll make you see that serious can be fun.
Lila’s lips parted slightly, a quiet breath escaping her.
That… was smooth.
Not perfectly polished—but confident in a way that didn’t feel forced. Like he wasn’t trying to impress her anymore, just saying what he thought.
She leaned her head back against the couch, eyes still fixed on the screen, that faint smile returning—slower this time.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Her fingers moved, a little more deliberate now.
That sounds like a challenge,
she typed.
A brief pause.
Are you always this persistent with women you’ve never met?
She sent it, her grip on the phone loosening slightly as she settled deeper into the couch again.
For the first time that day, she wasn’t thinking about the silence.
She was waiting for the next message.
