We returned home together after university. Ezekiel had been glued to his laptop, working on some project ever since. I found myself wandering the house, restless, looking for a chance to talk to him. There was this strange urge inside me, a need to spend more time with him, but I couldn’t let him see how desperate I felt.

The truth was, my mom was cheating on him. I knew it, and it made my skin crawl. Part of me wanted to break their relationship, to make sure he didn’t stay with her.

I didn’t want Ezekiel to be with my mom—not anymore.

But there was something more, something I didn’t fully understand yet.

It seemed like fate had put the idea in my head, but how was I supposed to get closer to him? I couldn’t just tell him what I knew, and I couldn’t show my intentions too quickly.

I paced down the corridor, holding a book, trying to calm my nerves. I had no idea how to approach him. He was in his room, the light from his laptop screen glowing faintly under the door.

After a few minutes of indecision, I finally worked up the courage. I took a deep breath, walked over to his door, and knocked.

“Yes?” Ezekiel’s voice came through the door.

"I have a problem, can I come in?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

There was a brief pause, and then the door opened. Ezekiel stood there, tall and relaxed, but with a curious expression. Our eyes met for a moment, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

I hesitated. "It's... about my studies. I’m having trouble focusing on some of the material. I thought maybe you could help me."

"Please come in," Ezekiel said, stepping aside as I entered the room. It was his and my mom's bedroom. I had never been in here since the day I arrived, probably because I didn’t want to face the reality of where my mom shared her space with another man. The thought made my stomach churn.

I forced a smile and glanced around, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Please, have a seat," Ezekiel said, motioning toward the bed.

I nodded, my gaze falling on the bed. My heart started pounding as I stared at it. Memories flooded my mind—images of the night when Ezekiel and my mom had been together. On that very edge of the bed, I knew they had been intimate. The thought stirred something inside me that I couldn’t explain.

With a deep sigh, I slowly sat on the same spot, trying to ignore the mental images that crept into my head. As I looked at Ezekiel, a question nagged at me—did they do it here every night?

Suddenly, Ezekiel’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "What happened, Isabella?" His brows furrowed slightly, concern evident in his tone.

"I..." I hesitated, pressing my lips together. "Actually, I’m struggling with some parts of my studies. Could you explain them to me again?"

Ezekiel smiled, a warm, genuine smile, and took the book from me. I brushed my hair behind my ear, trying to focus, but my mind was elsewhere. He began flipping through the pages, and I found myself watching him, not the book. His hands, his face—he was really handsome. The kind of handsome that was hard to ignore.

I rested my chin on my palm, smiling faintly as he looked up. "Here?" he asked, pointing to a section of the text.

I nodded.

"Yes..." I wasn’t even sure which part we were on.

He started explaining, his voice calm and clear, but I barely heard him. I was lost in the way his lips moved, the way his eyes scanned the text. I wasn’t interested in the lecture. I was engrossed in him.

After a moment, Ezekiel paused and looked over at me. I straightened my back quickly, wondering if he was going to ask me about the topic we’d supposedly been discussing. The truth was, I hadn’t heard a word of it.

He smiled softly. “Did you get it?”

“Uh, yes…” I quickly nodded, trying to sound convincing.

I picked up the book, pretending to review it before adding, “Can I stay here for a few minutes? I’m feeling so bored.”

“Of course,” he replied easily. “I still need five minutes to finish up.”

I gave him a small, satisfied smile as he turned back to his laptop, typing away. I raised my legs and got comfortable on the bed, stretching out. “I like the decoration of this room,” I commented casually, letting my eyes wander around the dimly lit space.

“You like a dim environment, right?”

Ezekiel chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at me.

“Yeah, kinda,” he replied, “I like warm vibes.”

Ezekiel smiled, his attention still half on his screen.

“Me too. It’s cozy," I said, my voice playful.

I leaned back on the bed, my body sinking into the softness of the mattress. “How romantic,” I said with a mischievous tone, plopping down fully onto the bed. I stretched my arms out, tracing my fingers slowly along the bed sheet, feeling the cool fabric glide under my fingertips.

“You think so?” he replied with a chuckle, but his voice was focused on the work in front of him.

I closed my eyes, letting myself relax into the warmth of the room. The dim light, the gentle hum of Ezekiel’s typing—it all felt strangely intimate. “It’s really warm in here,” I murmured, almost to myself, but loud enough for him to hear.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the keyboard and the soft hum of the room. I could sense Ezekiel’s presence just a few feet away, his energy quiet but steady.

What if, at that moment, he came to me, asked me to love him, kissed me like he had kissed my mom that night? The thought lingered in my mind, my eyes closed, drifting between sleep and the weight of my own desires. Suddenly, I was startled awake by the sound of Ezekiel’s voice, so close. I opened my eyes, and there he was—lying beside me. My heart skipped a beat.

I took a deep breath, still groggy. I hadn’t even realized when I’d fallen asleep. “Sorry,” I mumbled in a sleepy tone. “I dozed off.”

“It’s okay, you can sleep more if you want,” he said gently.

I blinked slowly, feeling a lazy smile spread across my face as I looked at him, my eyes still heavy with sleep. Then, in a sleepy tone, I asked, “Did Mom call you?”

He sighed, his expression falling slightly. “No, she didn’t.”

I felt a tug of sympathy for him, but also something else—a growing frustration. I wanted to reach out and touch his hair, to comfort him, to show him something my mom clearly wasn’t. But I hesitated. Still, I could hear the hurt in his voice as he added, “Kathrine… she never did this to me. She always called, no matter where she was.”

I clenched my jaw, a wave of anger at my mom rising inside me. She didn’t deserve him. Why was I holding back? My mom was out there, probably with my dad, living her life while Ezekiel lay here, waiting for a call that would never come. He had the right to feel loved too. He deserved better.

I made up my mind in that moment. Slowly, I moved closer to him, my hand reaching out. I touched his hair gently, running my fingers through it.

Ezekiel stiffened, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked at me, clearly unsure of what was happening, but I ignored his hesitation. We were lying next to each other now, my hand caressing his hair while he lay there, still, uncertain.

“You know what?” I said softly, my voice low. “My mom doesn’t deserve you. You deserve more than her.”

Ezekiel chuckled suddenly, breaking the tension. “Then who’s more beautiful and caring than her?” he teased, his eyes playfully challenging.

I raised my brows, feeling a mischievous grin spread across my face. In a playful tone, but with a hint of truth, I said, “Actually, you deserve a girl like me.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but I kept going, enjoying how bold I was feeling. “I mean, seriously—look at me. I’m the one caressing your hair, which my mom should need to do. But no… it’s me!”

I burst into laughter, unable to hold it in any longer, while Ezekiel just smiled lightly, watching me with an unreadable expression. His silence was a mix of amusement and something deeper. I could see he was thinking about what I said, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Sitting up, I grabbed his hands, deciding to push the moment further. “Come on,” I said brightly.

“Let’s go. Let’s cook something together.”

He looked at me, a little surprised. “You want to?”

“Of course! Why can’t I?” I replied, turning back to him, still holding his hands.

Ezekiel hesitated for a moment, then stammered, “Of course you can.”

I smirked, raising my brows playfully.
“And for free, you get a beautiful assistant to help you.”

That made Ezekiel laugh—a real, genuine laugh that echoed in the quiet room. I loved hearing it. We got up and made our way to the kitchen together, my hand still lightly brushing his from time to time. I did it on purpose, making sure he felt the contact, reminding him of what he was missing, what my mom wasn’t giving him.