Bert had never been the type to rush headlong into marriage just because of his age. Back when they were in Burg Eltz, Daniel had even brought it up during one of their rare etings—dropping hints about how his social circle there was practically nonexistent and how he could always arrange a blind date for him.
Bert declined, politely but firmly.
What was he supposed to say? "The reason I’ve never longed for love or marriage is because of you?" That would have been the old Bert—sharp-tongued, reckless, saying whatever would make Daniel’s face turn purple with rage.
But things had changed. After everything that had happened, he understood now: Daniel hadn’t ant to ruin his life. The man had his reasons, even if they were clumsy, even if they hurt. So Bert had let go of the resentnt. He wouldn’t have patched things up with Dave otherwise. He wouldn’t be this protective of Lilian.
So instead of throwing old grudges in Daniel’s face, he simply said what everyone says when they want to escape such talks: "I just haven’t t the right one. I’m used to being on my own."
When he left, Lilian watched his slightly weary back and sighed. She could guess at so of the weight he carried—but how was she supposed to ease it?
Bert’s phone buzzed again on the table. The screen flashed: Morrison.
Lilian picked it up. "Sorry about just now—I must have touched the hang-up button by mistake..."
On the other end, Morrison let out a cold, sharp hum.
"Bert hung up, didn’t he?"
She fell silent. Morrison wasn’t a fool—he knew Bert’s tricks all too well. And he knew her temperant just as well. This little stunt—vanishing to Arica without a proper word—had Bert’s fingerprints all over it.
"...When are you coming back?" Morrison asked, his tone softening, but only slightly.
Lilian hesitated. She’d just gotten here, and he was already pressing her about leaving?
"It might take a while..."
"A while?" His voice snapped, edged with restrained fury. "How long is a while, Lilian? Don’t tell a month. Don’t tell two!"
He hated this—hated the thought of being apart from her again, especially like this, without warning. Part of him wished he could tear through the distance between them, grab her, make her answer for this reckless escape.
They had just begun to find their way back to each other—had barely tasted the sweetness of reconciliation—and now she was gone.
Lilian puffed her cheeks in protest. "Will you let finish, at least?"
"I’m staying here because I have work to wrap up," she said at last, trying to sound calm.
The mont those words left her lips, Morrison felt as if a jolt of life had just surged back into him.
"Handover work?" he echoed, his voice instantly lighter.
"So, you’re saying... you’ve already decided to co back?"
Before this, he’d asked her—more than once—if she was planning to return. Each ti, she dodged the question with so vague excuse about being busy in the States. But now she was saying handover. That word was like a key—unlocking all the irritation she’d caused by leaving without a word.
If this was about wrapping things up so she could return, then what was there to be mad about?
Even the thought of her staying there a little longer didn’t sting so much anymore. Let her finish everything properly—clear the table, close the Chapter—as long as she cos back for good.
"Mm..."
Lilian only made a soft sound in reply, barely more than a breath.
He’d asked her if she was coming back—and honestly, now that she’d chosen to be with him again, how could she still linger in the States and play at so long-distance romance?
To her, that wasn’t romantic at all. She believed that if two people loved each other, the best thing was to stay together—to share the sa air, the sa mornings, the sa nights.
On the other end of the line, Morrison went quiet.
"...What’s wrong?" she asked, uncertain.
His voice, when it ca, was low and thick with sothing she rarely heard from him.
"Thank you..."
"Thank you, Lilian... for that sudden impulse back then. For starting whatever it is we have now. For letting et a girl like you."
If not for that one mont when she decided she wanted to try dating, their paths might never have crossed—not like this. She would have lived a peaceful, simple life, t a good man who would treat her gently and love her dearly.
Because she was that kind of girl. One who deserved to be cherished.
But his life? Without her, it would’ve stayed the sa—cold, transactional, maybe one day bound in a marriage for profit or appearances.
No love.
No warmth.
So yes—he was grateful.
Grateful for her recklessness back then.
Grateful for her stubborn heart that once loved him so fiercely.
Grateful that this ti, she was willing to compromise, to co back to him.
Lilian didn’t know what to say. His words, so heavy with feeling, made her chest tighten.
This love of hers... it hadn’t been easy.
From rejecting love and marriage entirely, to falling for him anyway, to getting hurt, to finding the courage to love him again—she had tasted every flavor of it.
What would the future hold? She didn’t dare to expect too much. But she rembered what her mother, Tiffany, once said: Love with your heart. And if you do, then nurture it with the sa heart.
Just as she was swept into that fragile warmth, Morrison’s voice turned again—low, amused, and a little dark.
"But," he said, "because you ran off without a word this ti, I’ve decided you need to be punished."
Lilian: "..."
One second he was thanking her like a devoted lover—now he wanted to punish her?
Was he actually... split in two?
Morrison didn’t give her ti to protest.
"Originally, I planned to give you ti, not push you into marriage too fast. But now? Forget it. When you land back here—straight to the registry office. We’re getting married the mont you touch ground."
Lilian: "..."
Her eyes flew wide open.
"What kind of twisted logic is that?!" she burst out. "I am not marrying you the second I step off that plane!"
She had said it—she wanted to test him a little longer, to make sure this ti was real.
And now he was twisting it into so ridiculous "punishnt," using it as an excuse to rush her straight into marriage.
How convenient—for him!
Morrison let out a cold snort on the other end.
"Whether or not you marry isn’t up to you anymore. Who told you to leave without a word? You’re in the wrong—so be good, and listen."
Before she could even find the words to fight back, his voice dropped into that calm, infuriating register.
"Alright, I’ve got work. We’ll talk later."
Click.
The line went dead.
Lilian stared at the phone in her hand, her jaw tight, her cheeks puffed in pure indignation.
She wanted to bite sothing—preferably him.
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