Always

Chapter Two

Aria remained silent, trying to find the right words.

“Lucian… I’m trying,” she said softly. “I’m not hiding anything.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re always trying. But somehow I’m always the last to know the truth.”

Aria flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He turned to her, expression cold and unreadable. “You disappeared for years, Aria. No explanation. Nothing. And now you show up acting like we can just talk things through?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me,” she said, voice trembling with frustration.

“You didn’t even give me the chance!” he snapped.

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

Aria took a step forward, anger bubbling up beneath her calm exterior.

“You’re acting like you were some perfect angel. You weren’t! You kept secrets too, Lucian. You pushed me away all the time and expected me to just stay there waiting for you to open up.”

His eyes flashed, but he didn’t deny it.

She continued, stronger now, “I left because I was scared. I left because I made a mistake and didn’t know how to face it. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

Lucian’s voice lowered, colder. “Then say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say why you really left.”

Aria froze.

This was the truth she hadn’t been ready to confess yet—her biggest regret, the one that tied her stomach in knots.

Lucian saw the silence and stepped back, hurt slicing through his controlled expression.

“There it is,” he said quietly. “Still secrets.”

“It’s not like that—” she reached for him.

He moved away. “Every time I get close to believing you, you pull back. Every. Time.”

His voice cracked just slightly, and that hurt her more than anything.

Aria’s frustration spilled over. “You think you’re the only one who got hurt? You think you’re the only one who felt abandoned? I’ve been carrying this guilt for years, Lucian. You don’t get to act like I didn’t suffer too.”

They stared at each other, both breathing hard.

Lucian finally broke the silence.

“If you can’t be honest with me, then what are we even doing?”

Aria’s eyes sting, but she held steady.

“If you don’t give me the space to tell the truth on my own terms, then maybe you don’t really want to hear it.”

He froze, shocked that she pushed back.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Finally, Lucian looked away. “I need to go.”

He walked past her, leaving Aria standing alone—trembling, frustrated, hurt, and still determined to fix what she broke.

She whispered to the empty space, “I’m trying to be brave.”

But for the first time, she feared it might not be enough.

---

Aria held herself together all the way home—through the quiet drive, through the elevator ride, through the moment she unlocked her door. But the second the door clicked shut, everything she had managed to swallow down came rushing back.

The way Lucien had looked at her.

Not angry.

Not cold.

Just… different. Older. Guarded. Someone she used to know by heart, now a stranger wearing the same face.

Lucy, who had been lounging on the couch scrolling through her phone, sat up immediately when she saw Aria’s trembling hands.

“Aria? Hey—what happened?”

Aria tried to answer, but the words tangled in her throat. She pressed a hand over her mouth, like she could force the emotions back in, but her eyes were already filling.

Lucy didn’t ask again. She just stood, walked over, and wrapped her arms around Aria in a steady, grounding hug.

That was all it took.

Aria broke.

She cried into her friend’s shoulder—quiet, shaking, the kind of tears that come from years of regret pressed into one unexpected moment.

“I saw him,” Aria whispered eventually, voice cracked. “Lucy, I saw Lucien. And he looked at me like… like I was someone he used to know. Not someone he loved. Not someone he hated. Just… nothing.”

Lucy stroked her back gently. “That wasn’t nothing. You don’t get that shaken over someone you feel nothing for. And neither does he.”

Aria shook her head, wiping at her face. “I don’t deserve anything from him. Not even recognition.”

“Maybe not then,” Lucy said softly. “But people grow. And you’ve grown. You’re allowed to feel hurt. You’re allowed to care. That doesn’t make you weak.”

Aria sank onto the couch, tears slowly calming into deep breaths. She stared at her palms—the same hands that once held his—and whispered, “Why does it still hurt this much?”

Lucy sat beside her. “Because you never got closure. Because you cared more than you admitted. And because seeing the past in front of you again is… hard.”

Aria leaned her head on Lucy’s shoulder as the room settled into quiet.

And for the first time in years, she realized she wasn’t crying because of what she did.

She was crying because she finally understood what she lost.

----

The cool evening air hit him, but it did nothing to steady the storm inside his chest.

Lucien had prepared himself for many things over the years—stress, responsibility, the weight of expectations—but not this. Not seeing her again.

Aria.

He walked toward his car, keys in hand, but stopped halfway. His fingers were trembling slightly—something he hadn’t let happen in a long time. He prided himself on control, on composure, on never letting emotions get the better of him. But one brief, unexpected moment had shaken all of that loose.

Her face kept replaying in his mind.

Older. Softer.

Still familiar in ways that hurt more than he expected.

Ethan, who had been waiting by the car, glanced up from his tablet. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Lucien gave a short, humorless breath. “Not a ghost. Just… someone I used to know.”

Ethan didn’t push, but the look he gave him said he understood more than he let on.

Lucien finally opened the car door, but instead of getting in, he leaned against it, staring at the sky like it might have answers.

He thought he was prepared to see her again someday. He’d convinced himself he wouldn’t care. That the past was the past. That what happened between them was just a mistake he’d moved on from.

But the truth, now ringing painfully clear, was different.

He hadn’t recognized the version of himself that reacted to her presence—tight chest, unfocused mind, emotions he thought he buried years ago.

He hated that he remembered everything so sharply.

How she laughed.

How she lied.

How he felt both when she walked into his life… and when she walked out.

Ethan finally spoke, more gently this time. “Whoever she was… you don’t look indifferent.”

Lucien looked away, jaw tightening. “I don’t have the right to be anything else.”

Silence settled around them, heavy but honest.

He got in the car, closed the door, and for a long moment just sat there—hands on the steering wheel, eyes unfocused.

He wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t bitter.

He wasn’t even sure he was hurt anymore.

He was… unsettled.

Because seeing her didn’t reopen an old wound.

It reminded him that the wound never truly closed.

The morning sunlight felt too bright when Aria walked into the office. She kept her expression steady, clutching her notebook a little too tightly as she greeted her colleagues.

Kai noticed first.

He always did.

“You okay?” he asked casually as he passed her desk, though his eyes lingered long enough to catch the exhaustion behind hers.

“I’m fine,” Aria said, forcing a polite smile. “Just… didn’t sleep well.”

Naomi and Priya were in the break room chatting quietly. The laughter between them dimmed the moment Aria stepped in, like they could sense the heaviness surrounding her. Priya handed her a cup of coffee without a word.

“Long night?” Naomi asked gently.

Aria nodded, staring at the steam curling from the cup. “Longer than I expected.”

She didn’t mention seeing Lucien.

Didn’t mention the crying.

Didn’t mention the ache that hadn’t faded.

Instead, she breathed deeply, squared her shoulders, and walked back to her desk—trying to believe she could leave the past where she found it.

---

Lucien arrived at his office earlier than usual. Ethan was already there, sorting files, and paused when his boss didn’t greet him normally.

Lucien dropped into his chair, opened his laptop, and stared at the documents on the screen without reading a single word.

Ethan cleared his throat. “You were quiet in the car last night.”

Lucien didn’t look up. “Long day.”

Ethan gave him a knowing glance but didn’t push.

Hour after hour, Lucien tried to work, but his focus kept slipping. Numbers blurred. Email drafts stayed unsent. He kept catching himself staring out the window, jaw tight, as if trying to understand something he’d forgotten how to explain.

When Kennedy later walked into his office, his eyes narrowed slightly. “You look… off.”

“Do I?” he replied flatly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Like your mind’s somewhere else. Or with someone else.”

He didn’t answer.

Because he was right.

And he hated that he was.