Chapter 6 Fragments of the Past

The cool evening breeze tangled Amara's hair as she walked beside Lucian, their footsteps echoing along the cobbled street. She hadn't planned to spend more time with him-not after Carter's unwelcome reappearance-but Lucian had a quiet way of making the world feel less heavy.

They strolled without speaking, the city lights shimmering in puddles from the afternoon rain.

"You don't have to tell me," Lucian broke the silence gently, his voice carrying the weight of patience, "But... sometimes the past gets lighter when you share the weight."

Amara hesitated. Her instinct screamed to retreat-to fold herself back into the familiar cocoon of solitude. But tonight, her heart felt bruised, and Lucian's steady presence soothed the cracks.

"It wasn't just betrayal," she admitted, her voice low, words tumbling out like broken glass. "Carter made me believe... I was hard to love."

Lucian's grip on her hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing the back of her fingers in quiet reassurance.

"They train you to think that way," he murmured. "Easier to control you when your confidence is gone."

Her throat constricted. His words mirrored her fears too perfectly.

She turned toward him, their faces close beneath the muted glow of a streetlamp. His eyes searched hers-not invasive, but deeply present-as if he saw every fracture, every hollow space she tried to hide.

"I'm not good at this," Amara confessed, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

"Me neither," Lucian admitted with a half-smile. "But maybe we figure it out together."

The vulnerability hung between them, delicate but real.

Their joined hands lowered as they continued walking, their steps falling into rhythm. The city buzzed around them, but the world felt quieter somehow-just the sound of their footsteps, the soft hum of distant traffic, and the unspoken thread weaving them closer.

They passed a quiet overlook-a railing framing the glowing skyline, buildings piercing the dark like jagged hope.

Lucian paused, leaning against the rail, his gaze drifting to the horizon.

"My sister," he began softly, voice rough at the edges, "trusted the wrong person, too. I saw her unravel... watched her lose herself."

Amara's eyes softened. "You blame yourself."

Lucian's silence answered for him.

"You couldn't save her," she whispered, reading the guilt etched across his features.

"No," Lucian admitted. "But maybe I can stop someone else from breaking completely."

Amara exhaled, surprised by the lump rising in her throat.

Without thinking, she reached for his hand, their fingers lacing together, hesitant but real.

"We're both carrying ghosts," she whispered, her voice cracking at the edges.

"Maybe it's time we stop carrying them alone," Lucian replied softly.

In the quiet, amidst whispered confessions and fragile truths, something stirred.