Chapter 91

Chapter 91
Garrett’s POV

“So tiring...” I sighed as I walked into the house. I didn't notice the quiet until the door closed behind me, ringing softly thought the hallway. It felt surreal, like the kind of quiet that felt like it was waiting for me.

My jacket came off shortly after, my tie loosened and shoved into my pocket before I even reached the hallway.

Five hours of debating who belonged at the gala and who didn’t had drained more out of me than a week’s worth of actual work.

I heard movement in the kitchen, light steps against the tiled floor. When I looked, I saw her, Lila.

She turned when I walked in, her hair loosely tied back, a glass of water in her hand. The soft light behind her made her look warmer, calmer, the exact percentage of everything I hadn’t seen all day.

“You’re late,” she said, but her tone wasn’t sharp. She placed the glass down on the counter and walked closer, her eyes scanning me. “Was the meeting long or did you decide to stop by somewhere else first?”

“Nhhh, it was just long, too long.” I sighed, running a hand over my face. “They could spend an entire night arguing about names if I let them.”

Her hands slid up to fix the collar of my shirt, the tie still hanging out of my pocket. She smiled faintly. “You didn’t even make it halfway undressed before giving up?”

“Was it that obvious?”

She hummed softly, tugging my shirt straight. “Obvious enough.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. She simply stayed there, standing close, her hands lingering like she was holding me together. That was the thing about her, most times she never needed big speeches. Just being there was enough.

“They want everyone who’ll make the papers,” I said finally. “Big names, clean faces, scandals we can spin. Half the time I wonder if they remember what the gala is supposed to be for.”

Her brows lifted slightly. “And what is it supposed to be for?”

I leaned back against the counter after dropping my bag. “Charity. A statement. Something that isn’t about them.”

Lila tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Then make it about that. About what you think it should be. They can argue over names for all you care, you just need to focus on the purpose.”

I gave her a look, tired but amused, I hadn't seen her contribute to something so subtle before. “You make it sound simple.”

“Because it is.” She looked down and touched my hand lightly, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You’re the one complicating it. You know it doesn't have to be right?”

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. She always did this, cut through the weight of things with a single sentence, like she had no patience for all the games people played.

“Sit,” she said suddenly, pointing at the chair. “You look like you haven’t eaten since morning.”

I didn’t argue. I immediately took a seat because all that name planning stole my energy away.

Sitting felt better than I expected, and before I could ask, she was already pulling something out of the fridge. Simple food, nothing fancy, but the sight of it made me realize how hungry I really was.

I didn't mind waiting, but seeing her heat up the food was doing something to me. She seemed simple and plain as she danced around the kitchen, picking up plates and cutlery, but the sight of her, it was different, beautiful.

As she set it down in front of me, she leaned on the table, watching me with that quiet attention she always carried.

“Who did they decide on?” she asked.

“Wilson. Anderson. A few others,” I muttered between bites. “Names with either too much influence or too much reputation to ignore.”

“And you don’t agree.”

I looked up at her, raising a brow. “How do you know?”

“Because I know your face.” She sat down across from me, chin resting in her palm. “You only look like that when you’re giving in, not agreeing.”

She wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t wanted half of those names on the list, but fighting it any longer would’ve dragged us into another endless night.

“They’ll get their gala,” I said finally. “Even if it’s not the one I would’ve built.”

Her expression softened, and she reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. “Then maybe that’s where you stand out. Not in the names, but in the meaning. People will remember that more than who showed up in a suit.”

The corner of my mouth tugged up, faint but real. “You make me sound wiser than I am.”

“You are wiser than you think,” she said, squeezing my hand once before letting go.

Silence settled again, but it was a comfortable one. The kind where I could breathe without feeling like the world was pressing down on me.

I reached out and fed her in a playful way, she took bites without complaining, her lips on the cutlery longer than needed.

We joked and teased a little, laughed more than needed and by the time I was done, I could say I had a good meal.

When I finished, she took the plate without a word and set it aside. I stood, and before I could say anything else, she stepped close, wrapping her arms around me. My chest loosened instantly, my head lowering to rest against her hair.

“Better?” she murmured.

“Yeah. Better.”

The world outside was loud, always demanding, always pulling me in ten different directions. But here, in the quiet of this house, with her arms around me, it felt simple. It felt like enough.

Later, when we finally lay down, her hand slid into mine beneath the sheets. The last thought before sleep took me was how stark the difference was, out there, endless names and politics. In here, just her, and that was all I needed.