Jasmine hesitated, eyes flicking away. "I left home," she said finally. "My father's furious. The blind date you went to — he found out it didn't go the way he expected."
Eva's eyes widened slightly. "You mean he knows that I went in place of you?"
"No" Jasmine replied quickly, "he doesn't know you went. He just knows it didn't end in a deal — or a proposal — or whatever fantasy he'd built up..he thinks I rejected him." She exhaled sharply, frustration simmering beneath her composure. "You know how he is. Disappointment doesn't sit well with him."
Eva leaned back, folding her arms. "So you think he'll come for you?"
Jasmine gave a short, humorless laugh. "I don't think — I know. When he's angry, he doesn't raise his voice. He acts. He finds a way to make people pay for wasting his time."
A long pause settled between them, thick with unspoken worry.
****************************
They pulled up in front of Eva's apartment building. Jasmine parked neatly, her headlights fading as she turned off the engine.
Eva walked around to the trunk as Jasmine popped it open. "You bought out the whole store?" she asked dryly, eyeing the bags stacked inside.
Jasmine smirked faintly. "I stopped by the market before coming to get you," she said, pulling out a heavy bag filled with groceries. "If I'm staying with you, I'm not surviving on coffee and noodles."
Eva rolled her eyes but reached in to help, dragging two of the bags — mostly clothes — toward the entrance. "Right, because my place is so spacious," she teased, her tone light, though fatigue lingered in her voice.
They climbed the narrow stairs, the hallway dim and quiet except for the soft hum of an overhead bulb. Eva unlocked the door, the familiar creak greeting them as they stepped inside.
The room was warm, softly lit — a single space where her bed, small table, and two chairs sat neatly arranged. From the doorway, the kitchenette was visible — counter, sink, and a little shelf lined with mugs. Cozy, simple, and unmistakably Eva.
"Home sweet home," Eva muttered, setting her bag down by the bed.
Jasmine didn't wait for an invitation. She crossed the room and set the groceries on the counter. "You know, I still love how I can see your kitchen from the door," she teased lightly. "Saves me the trouble of asking where to drop things."
Eva chuckled, slipping out of her jacket. "That's what happens when your whole apartment fits in one glance."
"Efficient," Jasmine corrected with a grin, dusting her hands.
Eva shot her a playful look. "You mean tiny."
"Cozy," Jasmine said, grinning wider. "Big difference."
Eva just shook her head, amused, then sat on the small chair by her bed, bouncing lightly on it. "Well, make yourself at home… again."
"I always do," Jasmine said, kicking off her heels with a sigh of relief.
Eva smiled faintly, stretching her arms before standing. Without a word, she began undressing — unbothered, used to Jasmine's presence. She peeled off her dress left only in her black bra and shorts before disappearing into the bathroom.
The faint sound of running water filled the air.
Jasmine wandered to the counter, organizing the groceries absently, her mind elsewhere.
When Eva stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailed after her, curling into the small, warm space of the apartment. A towel was tied securely around her body, damp hair sticking to her shoulders.
Jasmine was already on her bed — a green facial mask spread evenly over her face, a pillow tucked behind her back so she looked half-sitting, half-reclining. Her phone was tossed aside, the faint scent of moisturizer filling the air.
She glanced up lazily. "Coffee's on the counter," she murmured, voice muffled under the mask. "Before it gets cold."
Eva gave a quiet hum of thanks and padded across the room. She slipped into her soft pink-and-white pajamas — the ones printed with tiny hearts — then reached for the mug on the counter. The coffee was still warm, fragrant with vanilla and cream.
She carried it to the small table near her bed, setting it beside her laptop. The room was quiet now — just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the city's distant noise beyond the window.
Eva opened her laptop, fingers brushing over the keys as the screen came to life. For a moment, she hesitated, then began typing — slow, deliberate.
Thorne.
Instantly, search results flooded the screen. Among the names, one stood out — the first on the list.
Alexander Damon Thorne.
Age: 28.
CEO, Thorne &co.jewelry
Photographs lined the page — images from magazines, news articles, and business galas. In every one, he looked the same: sharp, composed, eyes like he'd already figured out what you were going to say before you said it.
Eva's gaze lingered on the screen, her lips parting slightly.
Behind her, the faint sound of snoring broke the silence. She turned to see Jasmine sprawled comfortably across the bed, the mask still on, breathing deep and even.
Eva let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
"Typical," she whispered, then turned back to the screen.
The glow of the laptop reflected faintly in her eyes as she scrolled — headlines, interviews, images. Each one pulled her deeper until the coffee cooled beside her untouched.
Eventually, her lids grew heavy. The room blurred — keys beneath her fingertips, the faint hum of the night — and before she realized it, she'd fallen asleep right there at the table, the screen still open on Alexander Thorne's face.