**LILITH’S POV**
The bar was the same one we always used when someone finished a job and needed to come down from the adrenaline.
Dim lights, sticky tables, music just loud enough to cover conversations that weren’t meant for polite company.
I sat with two of the usual group — Mara and Jess — nursing a drink I didn’t really want while they dissected the latest delivery drama.
“—and then the guy actually tried to renegotiate mid-handshake,” Mara said, rolling her eyes.
“Like, babe, the price was set three weeks ago.
Sit down.”
Jess laughed and raised her glass.
“At least you didn’t have to smile through it.
Remember that one client who kept calling you ‘sweetheart’ the entire time?”
I smirked on cue, the old automatic response.
“I charged him extra for the privilege.”
They both cackled.
The conversation rolled on the way it always did — work complaints, near-misses, the occasional story about some forgettable hookup that had scratched an itch and then been discarded.
I contributed when expected.
I even told a watered-down version of a night from two months ago that earned the usual approving noises.
But I noticed something while I was talking.
I was smiling more than I used to.
Not the sharp, calculated smile I wore for clients or the lazy, teasing one I used when I wanted something.
Just… smiling.
Softer.
More often.
Like my face had forgotten it was supposed to stay guarded.
Mara noticed too.
“You’re in a good mood,” she said, eyeing me over her glass.
“Did you finally sleep with someone who didn’t disappoint?”
Jess leaned in, interested.
“Or did you actually keep one around for once?”
I took a sip to buy a second.
The easy answer — the old Lilith answer — would have been a shrug and a filthy one-liner about how good the sex had been and how quickly I’d gotten bored afterward.
That version of me still existed.
“Something like that,” I said instead.
Mara raised an eyebrow.
“Vague.
Suspicious.”
“It’s nothing serious.” The roommates-with-benefits line sat ready on my tongue.
“Just… convenient.
Easy.
No drama.”
Jess snorted.
“You saying that with a straight face is the most dramatic thing I’ve heard all week.
You never do ‘easy.’ You do ‘fun until it isn’t, then ghost.'”
She wasn’t wrong.
That had been the pattern for years.
Hookups were tools — stress relief, ego boosts, temporary noise.
I used them, enjoyed them, and left before anyone could start asking for more than I was willing to give.
It kept things clean.
It kept me in control.
Lately the clean edges had started to blur.
I thought about the engineer who had walked in last night ready to fight burglars with an umbrella.
The same man who could switch from soft morning kisses to filthy commands without missing a beat.
The one who had agreed to the no-strings pact and then kept looking at me like he was already bracing for the day the pact wouldn’t be enough.
I realized I was smiling at the table again without meaning to.
Mara pointed at my face.
“There.
That.
What’s that about?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Find the original chapter at g.com.
You’ve been doing that little soft smile all afternoon.
It’s weird.
I don’t trust it.”
I laughed — actually laughed — and shook my head.
“You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?
Because the Lilith I know doesn’t sit around looking all… domestic and content after a week of work.
She looks like she’s already planning the next exit.”
Jess raised her glass again.
“To the new mysteriously-smiley Lilith.
May she still buy the next round.”
I clinked glasses with them and let the conversation move on, but the observation stuck.
They were right.
The version of me who used to leave bars early to find something temporary and forgettable felt quieter tonight.
In her place was someone who kept checking the time because she already knew what — and who — was waiting at the apartment.
I finished my drink, paid for the next round out of habit, and made my excuses earlier than usual.
Mara and Jess exchanged looks but didn’t push.
They were used to me disappearing when I felt like it.
Outside, the late-afternoon air was warm.
I walked toward the train with my hands in my jacket pockets, replaying the afternoon in my head.
The stories about old hookups had felt strangely distant, like they belonged to a different woman.
The smiles had come easier.
The urge to stay out late and find something anonymous had been almost nonexistent.
The pact still said physical only.
No strings.
Other partners allowed.
I told myself the smiles didn’t mean anything.
I told myself the fact that I was already looking forward to hearing Alex’s key in the door was just leftover physical habit.
I almost believed it.
Almost.
By the time I reached our floor I was still smiling, and for once I didn’t bother wiping the expression off my face before I unlocked the door.