My heiress best friend, Mimi, was about to leave for Europe to expand her business. Before she left, she tearfully begged her brother to look after her "darling baby girl," who apparently couldn't survive on her own. Over the phone, a man's voice—cool, lazy, and laced with disdain—drifted through. "What kind of turtle is so high-maintenance? It needs temperature and humidity control?" Mimi’s whining was completely shameless. "Come on, Matt! Just think of it as your good deed for the year. Can you just watch her for three months? Please?" "Fine. Send it over. But let me be clear: if it dies, I'm not paying for a new one." I clutched the phone, my palms sweating as I listened to the voice that had haunted my dreams. What Matt Shen didn't know was that the so-called "turtle" was a living, breathing person. And that person was me, Rosie Lin, the girl who had been silently in love with him from the shadows for six long years. I had to get myself packed and delivered to him. Immediately. 1 My best friend, Mimi, was a woman of action. Less than half an hour after she hung up, her driver was already waiting outside my apartment building. "Miss Lin, Miss Shen instructed me to ensure your safe arrival at Mr. Shen's residence." I stared at the stretch limousine and fell into a deep thought. I was moving in temporarily, not ascending to a throne. And more importantly, did Matt even know that the "turtle" was me? Probably not. After all, in Mimi's words, I was basically a decorative pet who did nothing but eat and sleep. With a heart torn between the thrill of a honeymoon and the dread of facing a firing squad, I knocked on the door of Matt’s apartment. It was a sprawling condo in the city center, one unit per floor. Mimi had told me Matt bought it to escape the noise of their family estate. The doorbell chimed three times. I heard the scuff of slippers against the floor from inside—slow, heavy footsteps that seemed to tread directly on my last nerve. Click. The door swung open. Matt had obviously just woken up. He was dressed in dark gray silk pajamas, the collar gaping open to reveal the faint outline of his abs and the shadow of a dangerously sexy V-line. A few strands of his hair stuck up in a messy rebellion, and his face was a thundercloud of "don't you dare speak to me" morning grumpiness. He squinted, his gaze lingering on my face for a bare two seconds before sliding past me, looking at the empty air behind me. "Mimi sent you?" My fingers were trembling so hard I could barely control them. I just nodded dumbly. "Mhm." Matt yawned, stepping aside to let me in. "Come on in." He turned and walked back into the apartment, his voice still rough with sleep. "Leave the suitcase by the door. Find a spot for yourself somewhere." "I'm going back to bed." "Oh, right." He took two steps, then stopped and turned back to me. Those almond-shaped eyes of his, slightly upturned, scanned me with a critical look. "Where's the thing?" I blinked. "What?" Matt pointed at my empty hands, then at my enormous suitcase. "Mimi's precious little treasure." "The turtle." "Where is it? In the suitcase?" He frowned, as if the idea was completely absurd. "Hope it doesn't suffocate in there." I was frozen to the spot, my face flushing a deep, mortified crimson. How was I supposed to tell him? There was no turtle. The "darling baby girl" that needed to be fed and cared for... Was me. My mouth opened, but before I could explain, Matt waved a dismissive hand, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Whatever. I'll deal with it when I wake up." "Just don't let it crawl all over the place. I'm a neat freak." And with that, he slammed his bedroom door shut, leaving me standing alone in the vast, empty living room, feeling like a complete idiot caught in a hurricane. He really, genuinely thought I was a delivery person dropping off a turtle. 2 I sat on the sofa like a statue for two hours, waging a fierce internal war. Maybe I should just leave? This misunderstanding is way too big. But the thought of living under the same roof as Matt for three whole months was a temptation I couldn't resist. That single thought crushed all my instincts to flee. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bear to leave. Matt was a senior from my high school and Mimi's older brother. He was known for his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude, looking at everyone as if they were idiots. But I'd seen him feed stray cats when he thought no one was looking. I'd seen him give his umbrella to an old woman picking through trash in a downpour, then sprint back to his car through the rain. He wasn't unkind; he was just too proud to show it. As I was lost in thought, the bedroom door opened again. Matt emerged, showered and changed into a set of casual loungewear. He looked refreshed, the sharp edges of his morning temper softened. He was sipping from a bottle of ice water as he walked into the living room. He stopped short when he saw me still sitting there. "You're still here?" I shot up from the sofa, my palms slick with sweat. "Um... Matt." He raised an eyebrow, strolling over to the armchair opposite me and sinking into it, crossing his long legs casually. "You know me?" "I'm Mimi's best friend, Rosie Lin." He gave a slight nod, his reaction placid. "Oh. Rosie." "I think she's mentioned you. The one who can't take care of herself..." My soul withered. Mimi, what on earth have you been telling him about me? Matt set his water bottle down, his eyes scanning the room once more. "So, where's the turtle?" "I wanted to see what kind it is. I did a quick search, and some tortoises are pretty high-maintenance. You have to control the temperature and humidity." He had actually researched how to care for a turtle. I took a deep breath, deciding it was time to come clean. "Matt, actually..." "There is no turtle." He froze, his gaze snapping to mine. "What do you mean?" I pointed a shaky finger at myself, my voice barely a whisper. "The one Mimi was talking about..." "That's me." The air in the room solidified. For a full minute, the silence was so absolute you could have heard a pin drop. Matt just stared at me. He looked me up and down, a slow, meticulous appraisal that made my skin burn. Finally, he let out a short laugh. It wasn't mocking; it was the sound of someone confronting the utterly absurd. "Did Mimi hit her head on something?" He pulled out his phone and immediately started a video call with her. She picked up instantly. Her face appeared on the screen, the background noise suggesting she was in an airport lounge. "Jules! Did you get Rosie? Be nice, she's really shy!" Matt flipped the camera around to show me sitting awkwardly on the sofa. "This is the turtle you wanted me to raise?" Mimi was completely unfazed. "My darling girl! What's the problem?" "Rosie's not feeling well, and she has low blood sugar. I didn't want her living alone," she said, her voice full of righteous indignation. "Besides, you're on vacation with nothing to do. It's just one extra plate at the table." Matt scoffed. "I'm your brother, not your nanny." "And besides," he added, his eyes landing on me with a playful glint, "this breed... looks like a handful." My face exploded in a blush. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. Mimi shrieked from the phone. "Matt Shen! You promised me! You can't go back on your word!" "If you dare kick Rosie out, I'll tell Mom that the girl you brought to that blind date was a hired actress!" Matt's expression darkened. "Mimi, are you trying to get yourself killed?" "Just tell me, are you going to keep her or not?" The two of them bickered through the screen while I sat trapped in the middle—small, pathetic, and utterly helpless. Finally, Matt ended the call with a frustrated sigh. He tossed his phone onto the sofa and looked at me. "Fine," he said. "You can stay." "The guest room is on the left. Get yourself settled." Feeling like I’d just been granted a royal pardon, I grabbed my suitcase and made a break for it. "Wait." His voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned around stiffly. Matt was leaning back against the sofa, his fingertips drumming a light rhythm on his knee. "Since Mimi entrusted you to me, let's get a few things straight." "I have a bad temper, and I don't like waiting on people." "If you're hungry, order takeout. Don't expect me to cook for you." I nodded frantically. "I know! I can take care of myself!" He let out a short, disbelieving huff. "We'll see about that." 3 The first day of our cohabitation passed peacefully. Aside from his sharp tongue, Matt was actually a pretty good roommate. He mostly ignored me, which was a relief. I was happy to make myself as invisible as possible. Until the next morning. I'm an early riser, so I was up at six. I figured since I was living in his house, I should at least try to be useful. I crept into the kitchen, determined to make breakfast. Fried eggs, bacon, and hot milk. Simple. Except I had severely underestimated the complexity of Matt’s high-tech stove. I turned the flame up way too high. The oil in the pan instantly started smoking. The moment the eggs hit the pan, they sizzled violently, and a plume of black smoke erupted. In my panic to turn off the stove, I knocked over the bottle of cooking oil. CRASH! The kitchen was a disaster. As I stood there, spatula in hand, completely lost, a cool voice came from behind me. "Are you trying to blow up my kitchen?" I jumped, the spatula clattering into the smoking pan. I whipped around to see Matt standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, a look on his face you'd give a complete idiot. "I-I'm so sorry..." My eyes started to well up. "I just wanted to make breakfast..." Matt walked past me and expertly switched off the stove. He turned on the exhaust fan and threw open the window, all in one smooth, practiced motion. He glanced at the two black, carbonized lumps in the pan, then at me, smelling faintly of smoke and grease. He sighed. "Mimi was right." "You really can't take care of yourself." Shame washed over me. I stared at my feet. "Get out," he commanded. "Huh?" "Go wash your face and change your clothes." He gave me a gentle nudge towards the door. "You stink of oil. It's disgusting." I scurried back to my room in disgrace. When I emerged, clean and changed, two plates of breakfast were already on the dining table. Perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs, golden-brown toast, and a glass of warm milk. Matt was sitting across from me, methodically cutting his bacon. He saw me and jutted his chin towards the empty chair. "Eat." I sat down, feeling flustered and grateful. "Did... did you make this?" "Who else? The cleaning fairy?" he retorted without looking up. But as he spoke his cutting words, he pushed the plate of bacon he had just cut across the table to me. "I don't eat the lean parts. This is for you." Something soft and warm nudged my heart. He remembered. At a high school gathering once, I had meticulously picked all the fatty pieces out of my pork dish. Everyone else had laughed at me for being so picky. Only Matt, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, had silently traded his plate of lean meat for mine. He remembered that? "Thank you," I said softly. Matt grunted. "Don't get any ideas." "I just don't want Mimi coming back from Europe to murder me for mistreating her precious 'turtle'." I took a bite of toast to hide the smile creeping across my face. Being his "turtle" wasn't so bad after all. 4 Life continued this way for a quiet, peaceful two weeks. Against all odds, Matt was actually taking pretty good care of me. I would wake up ten minutes before him to preheat the coffee machine, and he would make breakfast for both of us when he got up. If he came home early from work, he’d bring back dessert, or sometimes a roasted sweet potato from a street vendor. They were always my favorite things. This comfortable routine started to create an illusion in my mind, as if we had been living together for a very, very long time. Until a phone call shattered the peace. It was a Friday night. Matt was in his study working, and I was curled up on the living room sofa watching a movie. My phone suddenly buzzed. It was an unknown number, a local area code. My heart gave a violent lurch, and a sense of foreboding washed over me. After a few seconds of hesitation, I answered. "Hello?" A ragged, heavy breath came through the receiver, followed by a voice that had haunted my nightmares for a decade. "Well, well, little girl. You’re good at hiding."
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