Micah sat cross-legged on his massive king-sized bed, a faint glow from the crystal chandelier spilling soft light across his room. The space was nothing short of majestic—vaulted ceilings, heavy velvet curtains framing tall glass windows, and an antique bookshelf along the wall that reached almost to the ceiling. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood, courtesy of the expensive diffuser discreetly humming in the corner.
He was dressed in a simple pair of gray nightclothes—a soft cotton shirt and loose pants—that contrasted with the luxury surrounding him. The gray seemed ordinary against the silk sheets he sat on, but it was deliberate. He preferred quiet simplicity even when everything around him screamed wealth.
The young heir scrolled idly through his phone, the bluish light reflecting in his emerald eyes. His face was unreadable, calm, but there was a sharpness beneath that stillness, a weight that kept most people at a distance. His thumb moved slowly, lazily, almost bored, as if even the endless feeds of social media couldn't distract him tonight.
Just as he was about to toss the phone aside, a knock echoed against the tall oak door.
Knock. Knock.
"Ahm… Micah, it's me."
Liam's voice.
Micah's thumb froze mid-scroll. He blinked once, then glanced at the door with an unreadable expression. What is he doing here? What does he want at this hour? he thought, the faintest crease touching his brow.
Sliding off the bed, he padded barefoot across the polished marble floor and pulled the door open. Standing there was Liam, clutching a book and pencil. He had clearly bathed, his brown hair still slightly damp, clinging to his forehead in soft strands. His nightclothes were different from Micah's—his shirt a size too big, slipping down one shoulder, showing a glimpse of collarbone and pale skin that looked soft and delicate under the light.
Micah's eyes flicked over him once, sharp and calculating, then back to his face. He didn't comment, but a thought slipped through: What is he wearing… his shirt is clearly too loose on him. Showing… He cut the thought short, his face as unreadable as ever.
"Oh, right," he remembered silently, his gaze shifting briefly to the book in Liam's hand. The study session. Tonight.
"Come in," Micah said finally, stepping aside. His voice was calm, smooth, but detached.
Liam entered quietly, the thick carpet muffling his steps. His eyes darted around the enormous room—the massive bed draped in silk, the gold accents on the furniture, the polished piano in one corner, and the view of the moonlit garden visible through the glass windows. He'd been here before, but it still left him a little breathless.
Micah, however, didn't bother entertaining him. He returned to his bed, sat down, and resumed scrolling on his phone as though Liam wasn't even there.
Silence settled heavily between them. The only sound was the faint ticking of the vintage clock on the wall.
Liam shifted uncomfortably, clutching the English book to his chest. Finally, gathering courage, he spoke.
"Ahm… Micah… I… the English question," he said softly, breaking the silence.
Micah didn't even look up. He simply continued tapping at his phone, his face calm, blank, indifferent.
Liam's chest tightened. The excitement he had carried to the mansion drained out of him. He had come here with plans—hopes even. He wanted to study, yes, but more than that, he wanted to be close to Micah, to prove himself useful, to get noticed, to seduce him. Yet Micah acted as if his presence didn't matter at all.
His throat burned. He didn't know why it hurt so much today. He should have been used to this coldness. But for some reason, standing here in Micah's room, his heart ached with every second of being ignored.
His eyes began to blur. He bit his lip hard, fighting the sting, but tears welled up anyway.
When Micah finally lifted his head after a long pause, his emerald eyes widened ever so slightly. Liam was standing there, trembling, tears pooling in his eyes until they finally spilled down his cheeks. His nose turned red, his face flushed with embarrassment, but still he made no sound—just stood there biting his lip, as if refusing to sob out loud.
Micah stared at him silently. He's crying?
"Why are you crying?" Micah asked, his voice low but calm, betraying nothing.
For a moment, Liam couldn't reply. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint rustle of the curtains in the night breeze. Then, in a shaky voice, he finally spoke.
"I… sniff… I just wanted… sniff… to study with you. You… sniff… told me to come tonight to your room…" His voice cracked. "But you ignored me… sniff… as if I don't… exist."
Micah froze, startled by his words. It wasn't anger he saw—it was hurt. Raw, deep hurt. Maybe this was the first time since kindergarten he had seen Liam cry like this.
"Sniff… sniff…" Liam's tears kept falling, streaking his face. He hated how weak he must look right now, but the emotion was out of his control.
Micah stayed silent for a long moment. Then, in his usual calm voice, he said quietly, "Stop crying. I'm sorry."
The words slipped out effortlessly, but they hit Liam like lightning.
He stopped crying instantly, his eyes widening in disbelief. Did Micah just… apologize?
Rubbing his face quickly, Liam pulled his shirt up to wipe the tears, exposing a sliver of pale, smooth skin and the curve of a slim waist.
Micah's eyes darkened at the sight. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer than it should have, something unreadable flashing there, before he snapped his eyes away. By the time Liam lowered his shirt, Micah's expression was back to calm, detached neutrality.
"Okay," Micah said evenly, "let's begin."
Liam's cheeks flushed as he clutched his book, oblivious. Micah's apology still echoed in his mind.
"Sit at the study desk," Micah instructed, rising from the bed. "Place the book on it. Highlight the questions you find difficult. I'll be back. I need to use the restroom."
Liam nodded quickly, doing as told. He set the book and pencil neatly on the glossy mahogany desk, his heart hammering in his chest.
As Micah disappeared into the bathroom, Liam pressed his hands together, almost trembling with excitement. Oh my gosh… I cried. And Micah saw me. And he apologized. Micah actually apologized to me! His face glowed red, a smile tugging at his lips.
He hugged the book close to his chest. He even told me to wait for him. He's paying attention to me. He noticed me.
For a brief moment, doubt flickered in his mind. Or… maybe it's only because I'm Leo's brother… His smile faltered. But then he shook his head furiously. No. I don't care. He apologized because he wanted to. And tonight, we're alone… in his room… just the two of us.
His lips curled into a grin. I can't waste this opportunity. Leo will be back tomorrow. Who knows when I'll get this chance again? You must do this, Liam.
He clenched his fist determinedly, whispering under his breath, "You must do this, Liam."
"Doing what?"
The voice came from behind him.
Liam flinched, spinning in his seat. Micah had returned, leaning casually against the bathroom doorway, his eyes calm but sharp, watching him closely.