Lili
Two weeks. That’s all it’s been since she confronted Casey and watched the scaffolding of their life collapse. Daphne, Raf—she can’t think their names without feeling sick. The entire tabloid spectacle was humiliating: Lili cast as the scorned wife, caught on camera shoving Raf, the poor, desperate, home-wrecking socialite.
Before that day, she had never hit anyone in her life. It felt scripted. Like bad reality television. And beneath the sting, an unwelcome thought rose: maybe the whole world knowing the truth wasn’t the worst thing. Sympathy is currency. Victimhood is content, after all. So, she’d thrown herself into work. Sketching into the night, slashing fabric, pinning prototypes, watching a new collection rise from the ashes.
Casey is gone. She kicked him out immediately. But what she hadn’t counted on was that he didn’t actually leave. He stayed in the building. Moved into the unit across the courtyard. That was Gareth’s doing. Lili still doesn’t understand how he allowed it. Now, every time she steps outside, she feels it—the specter of their marriage.
Which is why she’s here. In this chair. In this office. With the only person who doesn’t look at her like a cautionary tale. Everyone else—Shane, Wendy, Gareth, even Boots—looks at her with that same too-sincere concern. She can feel the pity in their stares. But not with Alexander. He’s here to help.
“All I have is work,” Lili says, voice balanced on the edge of hope. “The collection’s the only thing that brings me joy anymore. That has to count for something, right?”
“Perhaps,” he says, eyes narrowing slightly. “But starting over is rarely as empowering as it sounds.”
“I’m not starting over. I’m building something better.”
Alexander’s tone stays calm, but there’s something surgical in the way he delivers the words, like he’s dissecting her: “Women like you always believe independence is the prize,” he says. “And maybe it is. But at the cost of what? Companionship? Love? Especially without children in your future. It’s different at your age.”
He watches her closely, gauging the wound. “You’re not twenty-five, Lili.”
“My age? Without children?” She meets his gaze, dry and direct. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just think you need to be realistic about your shelf life,” he says, careful, but not careful enough. “As a woman. In this city. In your industry.”
Shelf life? She doesn’t answer. And as she leaves Alexander’s apartment, the words won’t leave her. They echo relentlessly. Did he really say that? That didn’t feel like therapy.
“Lili!”
She turns. Sees Casey—coming straight for her. She fights the urge to knee him in the dick.
“I saw you leave his office!” he shouts, voice rising fast. “After everything, how can you still be talking to him? He’s manipulating you, Lili. Open your eyes. He’s got his fangs in your neck.”
“After ‘everything’? You mean after everything you did?” Her voice cracks, rising. “Should I not be focused on my mental health? You have no right! After the absolute hell you put me through, you think you get to police my life? He’s my therapist.”
“You don’t understand.”
Casey wants to tell her. Every cell in his body is screaming—that Alexander isn’t just her therapist. He’s behind it all. The architect of the bomb that blew up their marriage. But not here. Not like this.
“You have to trust me. That man is dangerous.”
“No. You are dangerous.”
For a breath, Lili imagines it. Slamming her fist into Casey’s face. Breaking his jaw. Feeling something crack. Just one clean hit. But before she can follow through—
“Hey!”
It’s Gareth. In one swift motion, he steps between them and shoves Casey back.
“Haven’t you done enough? Is this why you stayed? So you can keep abusing her? I won’t let that happen.”
Casey looks from Gareth to Lili, the realization dawning that every chance might be his last to tell the truth, but something in him falters. No. I can’t. What would it even change? So, he just turns away and doesn’t look back.
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Lili exhales, relief loosening her posture as she watches him go.
“You good?” Gareth asks, his voice softening.
Lili shakes her head, a faint, broken motion. “Not really.”
“What can I do? How can I help?”
She lifts her eyes to his, fragile but steady. “Don’t leave. Just… be with me?”
He walks her home. Because of course. Gareth always moved out of moral duty. But something in her knows. It’s more than that.
In the kitchen, the shades are drawn, shutting out the sunlight. Two beers sit between them on the table untouched.
“I have to ask.” Lili’s voice is shaky, still circling the words in her head. “Why did you lease him that apartment?”
Gareth draws in a slow breath. “Well… I’m bound by anti-discrimination laws. Legally, I couldn’t refuse.”
But what he doesn’t say, what he can’t, is that Casey bribed him. A lot. Triple the finder’s fee. Gareth pocketed the cash and told himself it didn’t matter, even though it did.
“Lili, I owe you more than an apology. What I did—helping Casey out—it wasn’t just bad judgment. It was betrayal. I’m sorry.”
She’s too tired to hold it against him. Easier to take the apology. “Thank you. For what you did out there. For staying.”
Gareth steps closer. She doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t step back. Just lets herself lean in, quietly, cautiously, as if testing how it feels to be steadied.
“You’ve been carrying a lot,” he whispers. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.”
Lili meets his gaze, like she’s not sure whether he’s seeing through her or simply being kind.
“I’ve been pouring everything into the new collection,” she admits, her voice tight with exhaustion. “It’s the only thing that feels solid. The only reason I get up some days.”
“Can I see it?”
“My samples? No… no. They’re not ready.”
“I don’t care. I want to see your designs.”
Lili hesitates. Does he actually care about her work? Casey never bothered to ask.
“Give me ten minutes,” she says, a small, almost startled smile ghosting her lips. “Just for you, I’ll give a sneak peek.”
The first thing Gareth sees when she emerges is how the light clings to the fabric, sparkling.
“It’s inspired by the moonflower,” Lili says, smoothing a hand down the bodice. “They bloom at night. Brief, but brilliant.”
“It’s beautiful,” he says. “You’re beautiful, Lili.”
She studies him in the dim, amber-lit apartment, like he belongs here, framed by the architecture and vaulted ceilings. The warmth in his eyes is familiar. But there’s something else too. Something unspoken, waiting.
Her breath catches, just barely. Then he steps closer. And for once, she doesn’t look away. She tilts her face up to him. The world stills as she tastes him—the warm softness of his lips, the kiss deepening as her hands find his shirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, drawn to the heat of his skin, the solid weight of his chest.
She hadn’t realized how much she needed this. Not until now. Not until his hands move down the fabric of her dress and she nearly gasps—
But then she pulls away. Gareth watches her, his eyes searching hers for doubt.
“We should wait,” she whispers.
“I can wait forever, Lili.”
He kisses her again, softly, just once. And when he’s gone, the ache isn’t despair, but something closer to hunger.
She’s still thinking about that kiss the next day. It hadn’t come out of nowhere if she’s honest. Gareth had always been the guy friend. The constant. A quiet place to land. Which makes Lili wonder: had there always been something more? Something she’d trained herself not to see?
Then—a knock.
“It’s open,” she calls, wiping her palms on her apron as Gareth steps into the studio.
“You came,” she says, not bothering to hide her smile.
“I’m a man of my word,” he replies, crossing the room. “I want to see everything.”
“I didn’t know if you meant it.” She pulls one of the samples from a nearby rack, her fingertips brushing the moonflower embroidery curling across the bodice. “It’s about resilience,” she adds softly, her thumb tracing a loop of silver thread.
She lets Gareth wander, watching as he admires the garments on the rack, his fingers grazing the fabric with quiet care. He takes it in slowly, then moves to her sketches, studying each page.
“These are incredible,” he says, looking up. “Call me crazy, but I have an idea.”
“Yeah?”
“You know Ashanti Mondrian, right?”
“Ashanti Mondrian? Of course. She’s practically royalty. Publisher of Élan West, face of half the LA fashion scene. I don’t know her, but… I wish I did.”
“I helped her sell a house ten years ago,” he says, smirking, though there’s a flicker of pride beneath the shrug. “We kept in touch. She’s sent a few big-name clients my way since.”
“Ashanti’s iconic,” Lili murmurs, almost reverently. “She’s survived every version of LA fashion—and stayed ahead of it.”
Gareth watches her for a beat, something earnest rising behind his smile. “I want to introduce you. That’s how much I believe in you.”
“Gareth… you’d really do that? For me?”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t know,” she says, her gaze falling to the floor.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“That kiss…” She hesitates, the words catching. “It shook me more than I expected. It’s been a long time since I let someone in. Someone I actually trust. And I just… I need to be sure it’s not coming from a place of… obligation. Like I owe you something.”
“Lili, there are no strings. None. I’m helping you because I love you.”
Gareth winces too late. “I mean, I have a lot of love for you. That’s what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
She looks at him for a long moment. Really looks. Then she steps closer. No more words. She tilts her face up and kisses him softly, not because she’s ready, but because she wants to be. Her hands find the hem of his shirt, fingers slipping beneath, dragging it up and over his head. The shirt lands in a soft heap on the floor, then his hands find her waist, drawing her closer. When he lifts her onto the cutting table, she exhales against his neck, her legs tightening around his hips. The studio softens around her, and for once, Lili stops thinking. She hears herself moan, louder, and for the first time in forever, reckless doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels exactly like it should—like relief.