He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 89

Ottilie glanced at the time. It was currently 7:30 PM.

The movie was over two hours long.

If they went after dinner, they wouldn't finish until midnight at the earliest.

"Let's go."

Yves beamed with delight. "By the way, do actors have to pay to watch their own movies? Don't you get free tickets?"

"When we pay to see our own movies, it’s not called buying a ticket. It’s called artificially inflating the box office," Ottilie joked.

Yves burst out laughing.

The doorbell rang.

Yves stood up. "I'll get it."

The studio apartment was tiny, barely four hundred square feet. The living room doubled perfectly as the dining room.

Ottilie sat at the table sipping her soup. With zero barriers in the small space, the conversation at the door drifted over clearly.

"Hello, Mr. Fordham."

Ottilie snapped her head toward the entrance. Through the narrow hallway, she had a clear, unobstructed view of Yorath standing impeccably in a tailored suit at the door.

Yorath stood at a commanding six-foot-two. Yves was a full head shorter than him.

Yorath’s gaze bypassed Yves entirely, landing directly on Ottilie.

Their eyes met.

His expression was entirely unreadable—a cold, stagnant pool with absolutely zero emotion.

After a brief glance at Ottilie, he shifted his focus back to Yves.

"I'm here to pick up Ottilie."

Yves stammered, "Please, come in. We were just having dinner, you..."

He instinctively wanted to invite Yorath to join them.

But they were already halfway through the meal. Given Yorath's elite status—and the fact that he was the lawyer who bailed him out—offering him half-eaten food felt horribly disrespectful.

Yorath offered a polite, remarkably refined smile. "Then I apologize for the intrusion."

Yves awkwardly invited him inside.

Yorath leaned down and opened the shoe cabinet. Inside sat two pairs of cat-themed house slippers.

One for a woman, one for a man. A matching couple's set.

Yves quickly pulled out the men's pair and set them neatly in front of Yorath.

Yorath sat beside them, watching the domestic scene without uttering a single word.

After dinner, Ottilie and Yves stood side-by-side in the tiny kitchen, washing the dishes together.

They chatted and laughed warmly.

Yorath remained in the living room, his face an absolute mask of stone.

When Ottilie finally stepped out of the kitchen and saw him, the smile vanished from her face instantly.

"Yorath. We can go now."

Yves walked them to the door, waving enthusiastically. "Tilly, I'll buy the tickets for next time. I’ll let you know!"

Ottilie nodded an agreement, then followed Yorath into the elevator.

Inside the claustrophobic metal box, her heartbeat was deafening.

Ottilie didn't dare look at Yorath.

Yorath stared straight ahead at the metal doors, but his peripheral vision remained locked on her.

"You and Mr. Walden have a nice home, Ottilie."

All the color drained from Ottilie's face. She opened her mouth, but not a single sound came out.