Episode18
1000 Words
The manuscript pages were spread out across the coffee table like pieces of a delicate puzzle. Marilyn sat cross-legged on the floor, highlighter in hand, while Lucas leaned against the couch behind her, skimming through a paragraph she’d asked him to review.
The room was dimly lit, golden from the standing lamp in the corner. Rain tapped lightly against the windows, filling the apartment with a steady, soothing rhythm.
Lucas read aloud from the page, voice calm but resonant.
“She had spent so long apologizing for her feelings that she forgot what it felt like to simply exist. Not justify. Not beg. Just… exist.”
He stopped and looked down at her. “This is the best paragraph you’ve written.”
Marilyn didn’t respond right away. She just watched the sentence underline itself in her mind, like a mirror.
“I wrote that after seeing my reflection at 2AM a few nights ago,” she said softly. “I didn’t recognize myself. Not because I looked different… but because I wasn’t scared.”
Lucas set the pages down gently. “You’re not scared anymore?”
“Not in the same way.” She looked up at him. “I used to be terrified that people only loved the version of me they wanted. And when I stopped fitting that mold… they turned cold.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “They weren’t the right people.”
She smiled sadly. “Maybe. But it still broke me. And I think… I’m just now figuring out how to love myself again.”
Lucas swallowed hard. There was something about hearing her say that—openly, unguarded—that tugged at a part of him he usually kept hidden.
He moved from the couch to sit beside her on the floor, legs stretched out, shoulder brushing hers.
“You’ve done more healing in weeks than some people do in years,” he said. “You’ve faced the darkest parts of yourself and didn’t run.”
“I almost did,” she admitted. “When you offered France … part of me saw it as an escape. But now, I think it might be something else .”
“What ?”
“A beginning .”
Lucas turned toward her fully, his expression shifting. “I’ve been thinking about something too .”
Marilyn met his eyes. They were dark and unreadable, but soft around the edges.
He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t expect this. You. Us.”
She froze slightly at that word.
“Us?”
Lucas nodded. “I told myself I was just helping. Just supporting. But somewhere along the way, I started looking forward to your knocks on my door. Your rants about plot holes. The way you leave your mug on the same corner of the table every morning.”
She gave a small laugh, lips trembling slightly. “Lucas…”
“I’m not saying this to complicate things,” he said quickly. “I know you’re still healing. I know you don’t owe anyone your heart. But I need you to know this isn’t casual for me.”
Her chest rose and fell more sharply.
Lucas’s voice lowered. “I’m falling for you, Marilyn. Quietly. Deeply. Even if nothing comes of it… I need you to know.”
Silence fell over them. Not tense—but thick with emotion.
Marilyn turned her face away, blinking quickly. “No one’s ever said something like that without expecting something in return.”
“I’m not expecting anything,” Lucas said firmly. “I just want to be honest.”
She looked back at him, her throat tight. “Why me? After everything? I’ve been messy. Broken. Distrustful. I flinch when someone raises their voice. I still cry when I think about what Xavier said.”
“Because,” Lucas said, his voice trembling slightly, “you’re real. You don’t hide behind perfection. You’re honest about your pain. And you fight like hell to keep going. That’s rare, Marilyn. That’s beautiful.”
She reached for the edge of his shirt, barely gripping it. Like she needed something to hold onto.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I know.”
“I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m not asking for anything. I’m just offering something—peace, space, support. And maybe, one day… love.”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, and he stayed perfectly still, letting her be close without asking for more.
They stayed that way for a long time. Rain continuing to fall outside. Manuscript pages fluttering gently in the breeze from the window.
Finally, she whispered, “I’m not ready… but I don’t want to lose this.”
“You won’t,” he murmured. “Take all the time you need.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt just a little tighter.
“Just don’t stop reading my drafts,” she added with a watery smile.
He chuckled softly. “Deal. Even if they break my lawyer brain.”
Later That Night – Bedroom Doorway
Marilyn stood in the doorway of the guest room, watching Lucas gather the manuscript pages off the floor in the living room.
“Lucas?” she said.
He looked up.
“I want to stay tonight. Not because I need to… but because I want to.”
He paused, his features softening with understanding. “Then stay.”
She gave him a small nod and disappeared into the room.
Lucas stood still for a moment, heart pounding—not from desire, but from something deeper. The kind of feeling that made you careful with your hands. With your words. With your heart.
He didn’t move for a long time.
He just stood there, realizing that somewhere along the way, this wasn’t just about helping Marilyn heal.
He was healing too.
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- Writer
