Chapter 22

The alarm rang for the third time before Isabella Langley finally struggled to get up.

They were about to be late, so the two of them sprinted all the way into the library.

"What floor?" Sophia Sullivan asked, her breathing even.

"Second," Isabella panted, her hair disheveled.

The elevator doors opened.

Isabella glanced at the grad school prep materials in Sophia's hand.

Her expression turned curious. "You're studying at the library? Don't tell me you're applying for grad school?"

Sophia didn't respond.

Isabella chuckled softly. "Even current students can't get in. You've been out of school for years. You're really ambitious."

Sophia gave her a cool look. "Whether I get in or not is one thing. But when you say 'can't get in,' are you talking about yourself?"

Isabella's face instantly darkened.

She was a junior and hadn't seriously prepared for grad school at all.

Her roommates had started reviewing long ago.

But she was counting on Ethan Roscente to be her safety net.

Sophia's words had hit a raw nerve.

"What if I don't get in?" Isabella lifted her chin. "He said if I want something, he'll lay it all out for me."

Sophia didn't want to engage. "Then I hope you can stay that confident."

She turned and caught up with Henry Lorenz.

Her roommate stared after Sophia, curious. "Isabella, who was that?"

"Don't know her," Isabella said, turning away. "Let's go find seats."

She suddenly remembered something and grabbed her roommate's arm. "Do you know how to make oatmeal porridge?"

"There are tutorials online. Just look it up."

Isabella immediately downloaded a cooking app.

She spent the entire morning studying recipes.

She didn't turn a single page of her book.

Her roommate seemed to want to say something but ultimately stayed silent.

Isabella had a trust fund boyfriend, after all.

Why bother saying anything?

They left the library at noon.

Isabella went straight to the supermarket.

She came back with a pile of kitchenware and oats.

Her roommate was speechless.

Isabella declared with certainty, "Starting today, I'm going to be the perfect domestic girlfriend."

It wasn't like only Sophia Sullivan knew how to make porridge!

Her roommate had no response.

...

The night was deep.