Lily's POV
You're the roommate? My voice cracks on the last word.
Connor Hayes stares at me like I'm a ghost. His gray eyes—the ones that always looked through me at every party, every dinner, every moment I tried to exist in Nathan's world—are wide with something I can't read.
Shock. Maybe horror.
You're responding to my ad? His voice is rough, like he hasn't spoken in hours.
We stand frozen in the doorway. Me with my two pathetic suitcases. Him blocking the entrance to what might be my only option for shelter.
This is Nathan's best friend. The man who watched me shrink myself for two years and never said a word. The man who made it crystal clear I wasn't worth his time.
I didn't know it was you, I say quickly. The listing just said C. Hayes—
And you didn't think to check?
I was desperate, okay? The words burst out sharper than I mean them. I'm homeless. Broke. And apparently the villain in everyone's story now, so excuse me for not doing a full background check on my potential roommate.
Something flickers across Connor's face. He steps back from the door.
Come in.
It's not an invitation. It's a command.
I hesitate. Every instinct screams at me to run. To grab my suitcases and figure out literally any other option. But Jazz's couch is too small. My bank account has exactly $847. And I have nowhere else to go.
I pick up my suitcases and walk inside.
The apartment is small. Smaller than Nathan's place. But it's clean. Simple. The kind of space that feels lived-in but not cluttered.
Connor closes the door behind me. The click sounds too loud.
The room's this way.
He walks down a short hallway without looking back. I follow, dragging my suitcases over hardwood floors that probably cost less than Nathan's bathroom tile.
Connor opens a door. Inside is a bedroom—bare mattress, empty closet, one window. Nothing fancy. But it's a room. A door I can close. A space that could be mine.
Rent's due first of the month, Connor says, still not looking at me. Eight hundred. Clean up after yourself. Stay out of my space.
His tone is ice. The same frozen politeness he used for two years whenever Nathan forced us together at dinners.
Why did you cut off Nathan? The question escapes before I can stop it.
Connor's jaw clenches. For a second, I think he won't answer. Then he turns, and the look in his eyes makes me step back.
Because I finally saw who he really is. His voice is quiet. Dangerous. Took me long enough.
What does that mean?
It means your ex-fiancé is a lying, cheating bastard who doesn't deserve the oxygen he breathes. And I'm done pretending otherwise just because we were friends in college.
The words hit me like a punch. Not because they're cruel—because they're true. And because this is the most Connor has ever said to me at one time.
You knew, I whisper. You knew he was cheating.
No. Connor's expression shifts to something almost like pain. If I'd known, I would've told you. I suspected he was a shit boyfriend. I saw how he treated you. But I didn't know about Madison until after.
After you saw the email, I say slowly. After his father fired me.
Connor's silence is answer enough.
How did you
Nathan bragged about it. Sent a group text to our old college friends. Said his dad 'handled the Lily situation' so the family reputation wouldn't be damaged. Connor's hands curl into fists. That's when I told him we were done. Blocked him. Blocked all of them.
I process this information. Connor saw Nathan's cruelty and walked away. Cut off his best friend. His entire friend group.
For me? Or for his own conscience?
Why are you even renting out a room? I ask instead.
Because I moved to a cheaper place after cutting off Nathan. Needed to reset. Figured a roommate would help with rent. He finally looks directly at me. Didn't expect it to be you.
I can leave. The words hurt to say. Find somewhere else
With what money?
I flinch. He's not wrong.
Connor runs a hand through his hair, making it messier. Look, this is weird. For both of us. But you need a place. I need a roommate. We're both adults. We can make this work.
You spent two years acting like I didn't exist.
I know.
You made it very clear you didn't like me.
I know. Something in his voice shifts. Gets heavier.
So why would you let me stay?
Connor is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
Because you deserve better than sleeping on couches and having your life destroyed by people who never valued you. And because Nathan doesn't get to win.
The confession hangs between us.
I should question it. Should ask what he means. But I'm too tired. Too broken. Too desperate for somewhere, anywhere, that feels safe.
I'll take the room, I say quietly.
Connor nods once. First month's rent. Cash or Venmo.
I pull out my phone, hands shaking slightly as I transfer $800. My entire net worth, gone in seconds. The transaction goes through.
Connor's phone buzzes. He checks it, then looks at me.
You're officially moved in. Bathroom's shared. Kitchen's small. I leave for work at six AM. Try to stay out of each other's way.
That won't be hard. We've been doing it for two years.
Something flickers across his face, almost like regret, but it's gone before I can name it.
Welcome home, Chen.
He walks out, leaving me alone in my new room.
I sink onto the bare mattress, staring at my two suitcases. This is my life now. Living with Nathan's ex-best friend. The man who never wanted anything to do with me.
My phone buzzes. I almost ignore it.
Then I see the name on the screen.
Nathan.
I blocked him. I blocked his number this morning.
This is a different number.
Against every instinct, I open the message.
Nathan: Heard you moved in with Connor. Cute. Real cute, Lily. You two planning this all along? Guess everyone was right about you being a cheating whore. Enjoy your little revenge fantasy. It won't last.
My hands shake so badly I almost drop the phone.
There's a second text.
Nathan: Oh, and FYI—Connor never liked you. Ask him why he really stayed away from you for two years. Ask him what he told me about you at my bachelor party. You think he's your friend now? He's using you to get back at me. You're just convenient. Again.
The word convenient stabs through me like a knife.
I stare at the messages until they blur.
Through the thin wall, I hear Connor moving around in his room. The man I'll be sharing an apartment with. The man who just said Nathan doesn't get to win.
But Nathan's words echo in my head.
Ask him why he really stayed away.
Ask him what he said at the bachelor party.
He's using you.
I should delete the messages. Block this number too. But my finger hovers over the screen, unable to move.
What did Connor say about me at Nathan's bachelor party?
Why did he really stay away for two years?
And why—out of everyone in Seattle—did he let me move into his apartment?