Chapter 8 Secondhand Kindness

Maverick stood still in the doorway of his bedroom. He didn't walk in-he just leaned quietly against the frame, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His sharp eyes were fixed on the sleeping figure on his bed.

It was Roseline.

She looked peaceful and innocent, like someone deep in a dream. Her chest rose and fell with each calm breath. The afternoon sunlight slipped through the new yellow curtains and landed softly on her face, making her look even more angelic.

Maverick was confused. He stared at her, trying to figure out how she even got inside his condo. No one ever came here without his permission. And more importantly-how did she know where he lived?

Despite all these questions running through his head, he didn't feel angry. In fact, he couldn't bring himself to wake her up. Roseline looked too calm, too tired... and too beautiful. She wore simple clothes-just shorts and a tank top-but the way she laid there, with her smooth, fair skin glowing in the soft light, made it hard for Maverick to look away. Her long legs stretched across his mattress, her hair spread across his pillow.

He let out a breath through his nose and turned his gaze away, trying to regain control of his thoughts.

Then suddenly-ding-dong! The sound of the doorbell echoed through the condo.

Maverick's eyes shot toward the door. Roseline stirred slightly at the noise, shifting on the bed. Not wanting her to wake up just yet, Maverick gently closed the bedroom door and made his way to the front of the condo.

When he opened the door, he found Charity standing there. She looked nervous-her eyes wide, her hands clutched tightly together in front of her.

"S-sir! I... I'm really sorry..." she began in a shaky voice. "Is Roseline still here? I came to get her-to bring her home..."

Maverick's face remained unreadable as he answered, "She's asleep. Let her stay here for now."

"Sir?" Charity blinked, shocked by his calm response.

"You heard me," he said more firmly.

"I-I did, sir. I'm sorry," Charity replied quickly. "She... she insisted on coming with me. She also insisted on cleaning your condo-"

"She what?" Maverick's voice rose, sharp and surprised. "She cleaned my condo?"

"Yes, sir," Charity answered, her head lowering in fear. Her hands were shaking now.

Maverick sighed deeply. He rubbed the back of his neck and took a breath, trying to calm down. When he looked back at Charity, he noticed how frightened she looked.

"You can go home now," he said in a much gentler tone. "I'll take care of Roseline. Just tell her mother that she's safe with me."

"B-but, sir..." Charity hesitated. "What if her mom scolds me?"

Maverick raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer I be the one to get angry instead?"

"N-no, sir! Not at all! I-I'll go now," Charity stammered, stepping back. She glanced toward the inside of the condo, but Maverick stepped into her view and calmly but firmly shut the door.

He turned around and walked back toward the bedroom.

When he entered, Roseline was still asleep, lying in the same position as before.

Maverick closed the door quietly behind him. His eyes wandered around the room. Everything was spotless. He saw the yellow curtains she must have put up and let out a small breath that could've been a laugh-soft and surprised. The bright color was not something he would have chosen, but it made the room feel warmer, softer. It reminded him of her.

He stepped forward and slowly sat on the edge of the bed. He looked down at her face again. Her lips were slightly parted in sleep, her eyebrows relaxed, her expression calm. He had never seen her like this before-so unguarded, so at peace.

His hand twitched slightly, tempted to reach out and touch her cheek. But instead, he clenched his fist, stood up, and walked out of the room.

Maverick knew himself well. And right now, he didn't trust his thoughts.

He made the decision to sleep on the sofa in the living room, far from the girl who was quietly stirring something dangerous in his chest.

Meanwhile, Roseline was still sound asleep. But then-ring-ring!

Her phone buzzed loudly beside her, making her sit up in a daze. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, still feeling half-asleep. For a moment, she forgot where she was-her body stretched comfortably like she was in her own bed at home.

She answered the call with a sleepy voice-only to freeze as soon as she heard her mother's voice on the other end.

Her eyes widened. She sat up straight, looking around in panic.

That's when she realized where she was.

"This isn't my room," she whispered to herself, her voice full of dread. "Oh no... oh no!"

She pressed a hand to her forehead and jumped off the bed. Grabbing her bag, she tiptoed to the door, slowly opening it and peeking out.

The condo was quiet. No sign of Maverick anywhere.

She carefully stepped into the hallway, looking left, then right.

'Maybe I can sneak out without him noticing,' she thought.

But just as she tiptoed toward the main door, a cold, low voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Roseline stopped in her tracks, one foot still lifted off the floor. Her heart skipped a beat, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of that familiar voice-calm, deep, and slightly annoyed.

It was Maverick.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked from behind her.

"I-I'm going home now, B-Big Bro-Mavy." she said in a shaky voice, almost whispering the new nickname.

Maverick stood up from the sofa. His movements were calm but firm, like a lion waking from a nap. He stretched slightly and slowly walked toward her.

"Do you even know what time it is, Roseline?" he asked, his tone serious but not angry.

"I-It's still early... I think," she replied, avoiding his eyes. "I can go home by myself. I'll just take a taxi..."

"It's 10 o'clock already," he said, now standing right in front of her.

Roseline blinked, clearly surprised by the time.

"I-It's okay, Mavy. I'll just call a taxi. I can manage-"

"No. You're not leaving. Stay here and go home in the morning."

"No, Mavy, really-I want to-"

"Stop being stubborn," Maverick cut in firmly. Before she could protest again, he gently grabbed her wrist and guided her back toward the bedroom.

Roseline didn't struggle, but her cheeks turned red as she walked behind him. She couldn't even meet his eyes. Her gaze stayed on the floor.

Once they were back inside the room, Maverick let go of her and pointed to the bed.

"Go back to sleep," he said, voice softer now.

But before she could reply, her stomach let out a loud growl.

The noise echoed in the quiet room like an awkward drumroll.

Roseline froze in place and slowly placed a hand over her belly, embarrassed. She gave Maverick a shy, sheepish smile.

"Sorry, Mavy... I haven't eaten yet," she admitted with a nervous laugh.

Maverick stared at her for a second, saying nothing. Then, without a word, he turned around and walked out of the bedroom. He didn't even look annoyed.

He led her to the dining area and pulled out a chair for her.

"Sit," he said simply.

"Y-You don't have to cook. I can just grab something quick-"

"Don't be stubborn," he repeated, this time with a sharper edge to his voice.

Roseline nodded quickly. "O-Okay, Mavy..."

He sighed softly, clearly annoyed at being called with another nickname, but he didn't say anything about it this time.

Roseline sat down at the table and quietly watched him as he tied on an apron. His movements were quick and confident. It was clear he'd done this before.

He grabbed garlic, onions, and bellpepper, chopping them neatly on a wooden board. Roseline's eyes followed every movement, curious. At first, she thought he might be preparing a full dish-maybe a soup or a stew-but instead, he cracked eggs into a bowl, beat them with a fork, and tossed everything into a hot pan with some oil.

Stir-fried scrambled eggs.

Simple. Fast. Warm.

Roseline smiled quietly to herself as she watched him cook. She never imagined someone like Maverick-tough, cold, always serious-would know how to cook such a homey dish.

"Here," he said, placing the steaming plate in front of her. "That should be enough for now."

Roseline quickly grabbed her own plate, and sat back down with the eggs in front of her.

"You ate the food I cooked earlier?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity and excitement.

"Yeah," he answered shortly as he walked away and slumped onto the couch. He turned on the TV, clearly not in the mood for conversation.

Roseline waited, hoping he'd say something more.

"Was it good?" she asked, smiling with hope.

"It was edible," Maverick replied flatly, not even turning to look at her.

Her smile slowly faded. Her shoulders drooped. 'That was it? Just "edible"? I had worked so hard to prepare that meal-thinking about how much he might like it, imagining him smiling, maybe even thanking me. But he said it like he only ate it because he had no choice.'