Lemons and Roses

Episode14

Rue's POV

I didn’t move, not at first.

My body froze completely the moment Brad’s lips met mine, like my mind had detached from reality and refused to process what was happening. But Brad didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slid gently along my jaw, steadying me, grounding me, and the kiss deepened—slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to pull me back from the edge I had been standing on minutes ago.

My breath caught, then something inside me cracked open just slightly.

Not fear, not panic.

Something warmer, something uncertain.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let go of my face. His palm stayed against my cheek, thumb brushing lightly as he searched my expression like he was trying to understand everything I couldn’t say.

Then he spoke.

“I’m very lucky to have met you,” he said quietly.

I blink.

“And if you ever try to walk in front of a moving truck again,” he added, voice sharpening just slightly, “I’ll kidnap you myself next time and keep you locked up until you get rid of those thoughts.”

A pause.

I look down immediately, suddenly unable to hold his gaze. The memory of the truck, of the emptiness I had felt standing there, came rushing back in fragments. My chest tightened with shame.

Brad didn’t let go of my hand.

Instead, he gently guides me inside.

The apartment was quiet when we entered.

Not awkward, just still.

I walk to the couch and curl up instinctively, pulling my legs to my chest like I need to make myself smaller. Brad sat beside me, close but not overwhelming, and took my hand again.

His thumb began slow, steady circles across my skin.

The silence between us didn’t feel heavy. It felt… safe.

Minutes passed.

Then I exhale shakily.

“People don't know everything,” I said quietly.

Brad didn’t respond immediately. He just squeeze my hand once, encouraging me to continue.

So I did. My voice was soft at first, uneven.

“I came home from school that day,” I began, eyes fixed somewhere far away, “and Zia… she was on the floor. He was hurting her.” My throat tighten.

“I didn’t think. I just… reacted.”

Brad stayed still, listening.

“I called the police immediately,” I continued. “I told them everything. But when they arrived… he was already dead.”

A pause.

My fingers tremble slightly in his.

“There were no witnesses except me and Zia. And she was high for most of it. So they didn’t believe me.”

My eyes lower.

“They called it manslaughter.”

Silence.

“I was arrested that same night.”

My voice cracking slightly.

“I spent ten years in prison."

The words hung in the air like something too heavy to be spoken easily.

“When I got out… I thought I could start over,” I said softly. “But I didn’t even finish high school. I don’t have a degree. I don’t have anything that makes me… acceptable to people.”

My jaw tighten.

“And when I saw your wealth, your life… I got scared.”

I finally looked at him.

“Everyone leaves when they know. So I left first.”

My voice dropping.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

Silence followed.

Brad didn’t rush to speak.

Instead, he lifted my hand and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to the back of it.

No judgment, no questions, just presence.

After a while, Brad shifted slightly, leaning back into the couch.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he said suddenly.

I blinked. “Like what?”

“Rich, Put together, Whatever you think this is.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips despite everything.

He continued.

“When I was younger, I used to do some bad things” he said. “My mom would always tell me I could choose to be different and not be what my dad wants, my dad would pretend he didn’t see it but I know he was secretly proud. I thought I had to prove something to my dad all the time.”

I listened quietly.

“I didn’t,” he added simply.

A pause.

Then he looked at me. “I used to think nobody really understood me either but my mom did.”

"I understand you or at least I want to".

That made something in my chest loosen slightly.

We talk for a while after that.

Not about trauma, not about pain.

But about small things.

Brad telling me about him sneaking into kitchens as a kid to steal snacks.

I admitting I used to hide books under my bed and read them with a torch at night because lights out was very strict with my parents.

He laughs when I say I once tried to cut my own bangs and ended up looking like a “failed experiment.” I laugh too.

It come easier this time, natural.

Almost normal.

At some point, my eyes grew heavy.

Brad noticed immediately.

“You’re tired,” he said softly.

I shake my head slightly but didn’t argue.

“You should sleep,” he added.

I didn’t respond, not with words.

But my body already knew.

Brad stayed until my breathing evened out, until my head tilted against the couch cushion, until sleep finally pulled me under.

Only then did he stand.

He looks at her for a long moment.

Then quietly left, closing the door gently behind him.

I woke up to shouting.

“RUE!”

I jolted upright.

Zia.

Before I could fully process anything, Zia had already thrown herself onto the couch, wrapping me in a tight, emotional hug, crying her eyes out.

I groaned softly. “I love you, Zia, but you have to stop crying like the victim every time something happens to me. I end up consoling you instead.”

Zia pulls back slightly, sniffing. “I thought you were dead or something!”

I frown. “That is very dramatic.”

Zia laughed weakly, wiping her face. “You’re impossible.”

I lean back into the couch. “I thought "consoling" is your job since I’m the one who is having a bad day.”

Zia rolled her eyes, still smiling through tears. “I love you too, Rue. Never forget that.”

Her gaze drifts to the coffee table.

A folded note, she picks it up.

After reading it, her eyes widen.

“Oh my God,” she said slowly.

I groan. “What?”

“You and Brad are back together?” Zia demands.

I blink. “We didn’t exactly—”

Zia cut me off. “Don’t even start. You didn’t tell me?”

“It not like that,” I say quickly. “He just gave me a ride home.”

Zia narrow her eyes. “And a kiss?”

I pause.

“…Don’t read too much into it.”

Zia sigh dramatically. “You are exhausting.”

But she was smiling.

Zia stays over, we watch a movie together, sharing snacks and laughing quietly at random scenes, like the past weeks of heaviness had softened just a little.

For once, I didn’t feel alone.

The first official date came a week later.

Brad pick me up. He opens the door. He tease me gently when I overthink my outfit. I tease him right back when he insists on me choosing the restaurant.

It is easy, comfortable.

We talk more than we ate, and when he dropped me off, he kiss my forehead before leaving.

I stand there smiling longer than I expected.

Weeks passed.

I take the high school final exams, I pass.

And I finally graduate high school.

Zia cried, dramatic as always. Jason made too many plans for a celebration. The kids run around screaming in celebration, I bet they don't even know why.

For the first time, I let myself celebrate without shrinking away from it.

That night, Brad takes me out again.

Dinner first, then a club afterward.

The music is loud, the lights warm, and for once I don't feel overwhelmed. We dance, laugh at random things.

Let myself exist without overthinking it, until I turn my head.

And see someone, a face I have buried for ten years.

A face that don't belong in my present, but had just stepped into it anyway.