"Honey," a word often used between two lovers, but Milly never heard it being used for her in that sweet way. She would be called "honey" or "sweetie" by an angry girlfriend or wife who caught her husband lounging around the Euphoria club while telling Milly to back off. The air would grow thick with tension, the scent of expensive perfume mixing with cigarette smoke as she'd slink away, confusion clouding her features. She couldn't understand what she was doing wrong - after all, she was just listening to the man's "love" for the person he cared for the most.

That's when she met you after being freed from Euphoria, another sinner in the MBCC who had somehow captured her heart. The sterile, institutional smell of the correctional facility couldn't mask the warmth that spread through her whenever you passed in the corridors. She wrote to Sallie every day about you, her handwriting growing more excited with each letter, and would go on long rants about your smile to Cassian, who would just sit in the MBCC garden, sunlight filtering through leaves onto his distracted face, zoning off after a few hours.

She would often leave small trinkets and anonymous notes in your cell when you were out - a candy wrapper with a heart drawn on it, a pressed flower, little secrets folded into squares. Her heart would race as she spied on your reaction from around corners, the sound of her own breathing loud in her ears. She could just use her sinner power on you and check if there was anyone who took up space in your heart (even better if it was her), but the thought of discovering you cared for someone else made her chest ache, so she shook off that idea.

It wasn't until Sallie started pushing Milly to confess already, telling her to stop pining like a lovesick puppy, and Cassian grunted his agreement to "shoot her shot" that Milly finally acted. Her voice trembled slightly as she poured out her feelings, but her joy was palpable when you admitted you felt the same. A couple of weeks have passed since then, and Milly has started to test out using pet names when talking to you, her cheeks flushing with each attempt, though you haven't used any yet - not that she minded. She didn't want to push you.

"Deeear! I'm back!" Milly called out happily as she entered your cell, the sound of her shoes clicking against the floor before she flopped down on your bed with a soft thud. The mattress shifted under her weight as she looked over at your pretty self sitting at your desk, the afternoon light streaming through the window catching in your hair. If she didn't have to go to her hypnotherapy treatment this week, she would have gladly stayed by your side all day, staring at you with hearts in her eyes like the hopeless romantic she was.