The Apartment Visit
Lia didn't reply after that.
Not because she didn't know what to say.
Because she knew exactly what she wanted to say—
and none of it felt safe.
Mine.
The word stayed with her long after the conversation ended.
Through the rain.
Through the silence of her apartment.
Through the restless hours she spent staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping.
Adrian Monteverde was becoming harder to separate from her thoughts.
And honestly—
that terrified her more than his jealousy did.
—
The next afternoon, Blackthorne University buzzed with midterm stress and exhausted students surviving entirely on caffeine and poor decisions.
Lia sat near the literature building steps flipping through highlighted notes while trying very hard not to check her phone every five minutes.
Unfortunately—
she checked it anyway.
Nothing.
No messages from Adrian all morning.
Which should've felt peaceful.
Instead, she kept noticing the absence.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
"You look abandoned."
Lia glanced up immediately.
Sienna dropped dramatically into the seat beside her while stealing one of her fries without permission.
"He hasn't texted you today, has he?"
Lia frowned. "Why would you assume that?"
"Because you've checked your phone seven times in thirty seconds."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
Lia looked away quickly.
Sienna gasped suddenly.
"Oh my god."
"What?"
"You miss him."
"I miss stability and emotional peace."
"So yes."
Before Lia could argue further, her phone buzzed.
Her pulse betrayed her instantly.
Sienna saw it happen and looked deeply disappointed in her.
Lia ignored her completely and checked the message.
Message
Adrian: Your landlord increased the late fee.
Lia froze.
Completely.
Every muscle in her body tightened at once.
Slowly, she sat up straighter.
Message
Lia: How do you know that?
Adrian: You looked anxious this morning.
Lia: Adrian.
Adrian: Answer honestly. Have you eaten today?
Her chest tightened sharply.
Not because of the food question.
Because he'd ignored hers entirely.
Again.
Message
Lia: Stop changing the subject.
Adrian: No.
Lia: This isn't normal.
Adrian: Neither is your landlord threatening eviction over one late payment.
Her breath caught.
Lia immediately looked around instinctively, like somehow someone nearby might overhear private information through the screen.
Sienna noticed her expression change.
"What happened?"
Lia locked her phone immediately.
"Nothing."
"Lia."
She exhaled slowly.
"He somehow knows about my landlord."
Sienna stared at her for a full second.
"...Okay, that's terrifying."
"I know."
"No, seriously." Sienna lowered her voice. "That's rich-people-surveillance terrifying."
Lia rubbed tiredly at her forehead.
Because honestly?
Part of her didn't even feel surprised anymore.
That was the worst part.
Adrian knowing things he shouldn't had somehow become expected.
Routine.
Normal.
And that probably meant she was losing her mind.
Her phone buzzed again.
Message
Adrian: You're overthinking.
Lia: Are you psychic now too?
Adrian: No. You tap your ring when stressed.
Lia: Stop noticing everything.
Adrian: No.
Sienna leaned closer dramatically.
"You know what's horrifying?"
"What?"
"He's not even pretending to act normal anymore."
Lia looked down at the glowing screen quietly.
Because Sienna was right.
Adrian had stopped softening himself around her.
Stopped pretending his behavior was accidental.
And somehow—
that honesty made him even more dangerous.
—
By evening, rain had started again.
Lia hated how often rain seemed connected to Adrian now.
The city blurred silver outside the bus windows while she rested her forehead lightly against the glass, exhausted from classes and lack of sleep.
Her phone remained silent the entire ride home.
Which somehow felt louder than messages.
When she finally reached her apartment building, the hallway lights flickered weakly overhead like always.
Cold.
Quiet.
Familiar.
She unlocked her apartment door slowly—
then froze immediately.
A black umbrella leaned neatly against the kitchen counter.
Not hers.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
The apartment remained silent.
Still.
Empty.
But the umbrella absolutely had not been there this morning.
Lia stepped inside carefully.
Every instinct in her body sharpened instantly.
Then she noticed the second thing.
A grocery bag sitting on the counter.
Fresh fruit.
Bread.
Instant noodles replaced with actual food.
And beside it—
a folded note written in clean black ink.
Eat something real for once.
— A
Lia stared at the note in disbelief.
Then immediately grabbed her phone.
Message
Lia: You were inside my apartment.
Adrian: Yes.
Lia: ARE YOU INSANE?
Adrian: Your window lock was broken.
Lia: THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE HERE.
Adrian: It is now fixed.
Her pulse hammered violently beneath her ribs.
She looked toward the window immediately.
The lock actually had been repaired.
Lia stared at it.
Then at the groceries.
Then back at her phone.
A strange mix of anger and disbelief twisted through her chest.
Because no normal person did this.
No sane person entered someone's apartment uninvited and repaired locks like it was romantic.
And yet—
the repaired lock made her feel safer.
That realization unsettled her deeply.
Another message appeared.
Message
Adrian: You looked nervous walking home lately.
Lia: So your solution was breaking into my apartment?
Adrian: Your landlord has a spare key. I used that.
Lia: THAT DOESN'T HELP.
Adrian: You're yelling through text.
Lia pressed both hands over her face.
Somewhere between horrified and exhausted, she accidentally laughed.
Because Adrian said completely psychotic things with the calmness of someone discussing weather forecasts.
Her phone buzzed again.
Message
Adrian: Check the kitchen cabinet above the sink.
Slowly—
very slowly—
Lia walked toward the cabinet.
She opened it carefully.
And froze.
The leaking pipe she'd been dealing with for two months—
was fixed.
Completely fixed.
No dripping water.
No bucket underneath.
Nothing.
Silence filled the apartment.
Lia stared at the cabinet for several long seconds.
Then finally typed:
Message
Lia: Why would you do this?
Adrian: Because you live like you're waiting for things to fall apart.
The words hit unexpectedly hard.
Not controlling.
Not possessive.
Careful.
Too careful.
Lia leaned quietly against the kitchen counter while rain echoed softly outside.
No one had ever looked closely enough to notice the leaking pipe.
Or the broken lock.
Or the way she rationed groceries until payday.
But Adrian noticed everything.
And maybe that was exactly why she couldn't force herself to hate him—
even when she probably should have.