Chapter 7 6

Lena

I unlocked my apartment door and stepped inside, letting the weight of the day settle onto my shoulders. My bag thudded onto the floor, and I dropped onto the couch with a long, exhausted sigh. I hadn't even made it inside before my phone rang.

Of course.

"Lena," my mother's voice chirped from the other end, sharp and insistent. "I need to know why you broke off your engagement with Ethan. He sent me a text. He's a good man. Why can't you just... let it slide?"

I flinched, gripping the phone tighter than I intended. "Mom," I said slowly, forcing my voice to stay calm, "he cheated. That's why I broke it off."

Another pause. I could hear the frustration building behind her words. "But... is that really enough? Don't you think you could just forgive him? Everyone makes mistakes. You've made mistakes too, haven't you?"

I laughed, but it was brittle, sharp, and lacked humor. "Mom, seriously? Forgive him? After all the lies, the sneaking around? Do you really think that's something I can just... overlook?" I let my voice rise just a little, enough to make my point. "Do you remember the loan Dad took? The huge one that we're still paying off? I didn't let that slide either. You think I should just let a cheater slide?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. I knew she wanted to argue, to convince me that my feelings were exaggerated. "Lena, you're so dramatic. Sometimes I don't understand why you make everything so complicated."

I leaned back against the couch, letting the weight of her words hit me. "Mom, it's not complicated. I just don't lie down for people who don't deserve me. And maybe if you stopped clinging to men who've done nothing but hurt you, you'd understand. It's embarrassing, really."

Her sigh came through the line, heavy. "Lena... I just... I can't let go of him. I've tried, I really have. But I can't. And I-"

I cut her off before she could finish. "Mom, enough. Stop holding on to him. It's not helping anyone. Especially not you. He's dragging you back and he's not even working. He's either gambling it off or taking another ridiculous loan."

Then her voice softened. "I just... I hoped you could help me, with a little money maybe. I can't manage everything myself right now."

I burst out laughing, though it was more bitter than amused. "Of course. That's all you ever ask for, isn't it?"

"Lena..." she began, sounding offended.

"I'm hanging up," I said, sharper than I meant. And I did.

I set the phone down, feeling the residual tension ripple through me. My chest was tight, my mind buzzing. I hated that call, hated her persistence, and hated the way I could never really escape the past, no matter how far I moved.

Then my phone buzzed again. A text from my younger sister, Maya, she was studying arts in New York City, far away from all of this.

Hey, are you okay? I haven't seen a text from you in two bloody days.

I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I wanted to answer her, to be cheerful and reassuring, but I was too raw, too exposed. I could feel the fatigue weighing down on me, the emotional hangover from everything with Ethan and the constant family pressure.

Instead, I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the cold bath. The water bit at my skin, shocking me awake and stealing some of the tension from my chest. I closed my eyes and let the memories surface.

The old apartment, cramped and hot in the summer, filled with the smell of stale food and worry. Nights spent hiding from creditors while my father ignored the world. Loan sharks banging on the door while I held my sister close, whispering that everything would be okay even though I wasn't sure it was, counting coins for food and sleepless nights, trying to make the impossible manageable.

I shivered from more than the water. Childhood had been chaos. Surviving had been my first lesson, and I had learned early to stay calm and keep my head down. That instinct had stayed with me, even now.

And then, Lucas's face surfaced in my mind.

I had lied to him. I had told him I was married, not the whole story, but enough to get him to back off, enough to preserve the professional distance we needed. I felt a flush of embarrassment even now, lying like that. It wasn't the proudest moment, but it had been necessary. If he remembered the truth... well, some things were better left unsaid.

I let out a soft laugh. If he couldn't remember the woman he had a one-night stand with, maybe he had a bad memory. Or maybe, I thought wryly, this wasn't his first rodeo.

The cold water ran over my skin, numbing me just enough to feel grounded. My body relaxed slightly, but my mind kept racing. I thought about his face when I had blurted it in the parking garage. I remembered the way he had stopped himself from asking, from pressing further. He had the restraint, even when he wanted to say more. That thought made my pulse quicken and my cheeks burn.

I shook my head and chuckled softly. It was absurd. He was infuriatingly attractive. And I had given him a reason to back off. And yet... I still felt a flicker of curiosity about him.

I leaned back in the water, letting it run cold against my skin. I had done what I needed to do. I had created boundaries. Professional boundaries. Personal boundaries. Safe boundaries. And yet, the thought of him lingered, impossible to push away entirely.

I thought about work tomorrow and about seeing him again across the office, knowing what had happened, knowing the tension, knowing the lie. I reminded myself that no matter what, nothing would cross the line. I had control. I had to. I had survived worse.

But I also had to admit the truth to myself: I still felt it. That spark. That awareness of him that made my stomach twist in a way I wasn't prepared to handle fully yet.

I laughed again quietly, shaking my head. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. But it was also true.

Eventually, I drained the bath and stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself. My hair was still dripping, my skin cold but tingling. I glanced at my phone, saw the text from my sister again, and this time, I typed out a short reply, careful to stay composed:

I'm fine. Just tired. Talk later.

I finished drying off and stood in the middle of my apartment. For a moment, I let myself breathe. I reminded myself that I had made the right choices. That I had set boundaries with Lucas. That I had taken control of my life in ways that my parents never had.

And yet... a small, stubborn thought lingered: if he didn't remember that night, if it hadn't even left a mark on him, maybe he really was composed as he looked.

I shook my head, amused and frustrated at myself. I had survived hiding from creditors, dodging chaos, and taking responsibility for everyone else's mistakes. I could handle a man who complicated my life. I could handle Lucas Reed.

But that didn't mean I wanted to.

And that didn't mean I wouldn't be thinking about him tomorrow.

Not at all.