Episode 9 : The Weight of Yesterday
1225 Words
The moment Lucy’s hand rested in his, something shifted—subtle but undeniable. Lucas felt it first: that familiar spark he had once taken for granted. But now it wasn’t just warmth. It was fear. Gratitude. Hope. All tangled so tightly he could barely breathe.
Lucy felt it too, though she tried not to. Her heart betrayed her—the small, involuntary tremor, the way her pulse quickened when his thumb brushed her knuckles. Months apart had not erased the memory of his touch. It only made it foreign… and frighteningly new.
She pulled her hand back gently, not out of rejection, but self-protection.
“Lucas,” she said softly, “we can’t pretend nothing happened.”
“I’m not pretending,” he replied, voice thick. “I’m trying.”
There it was again—the honesty. The part of him she had always loved and the part that had shown up far too late.
Lucy swallowed hard. “Trying isn’t always enough.”
“I know.” He let out a slow breath. “But I’m here now. Whatever that means. Whatever you’ll allow.”
She looked out the window again, watching raindrops gather on the glass even though the sky hadn’t been fully cloudy a minute ago. It matched her perfectly—weather that changed without warning.
“Last night,” she began quietly, “I had a dream about you.”
Lucas’s head turned sharply. “A good dream?”
She hesitated. “No. Not really.”
A faint ache settled in his expression. “What happened?”
“You were leaving,” she whispered. “Walking away. And no matter how loudly I called your name, you couldn’t hear me.”
Lucas closed his eyes for a moment, as if the image physically hurt him. “Lucy… I hate that I became that dream for you.”
Her voice wavered. “You didn’t just become it. You repeated it.”
Silence again—heavy, unescapable.
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I know I broke something in you. Something I didn’t have the right to touch. But I’m willing to spend the rest of my life fixing it if you let me.”
She stared at him, startled by the intensity of his words. Lucas had always been emotional, but never reckless with promises. This… this was different.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she warned. “I can’t survive that again.”
His eyes lifted to hers—clear, steady, unflinching.
“I mean every single word.”
Her breath caught.
But before she could speak, the waitress approached with a refill for her latte. Lucy murmured a thank-you, grateful for the brief interruption, the moment to gather herself. Lucas waited patiently, his gaze never leaving her face.
When they were alone again, she took a slow sip, her fingers warming around the cup.
“Why now?” she asked finally, her voice a fragile thread. “Why come back now, when I finally started learning how to breathe without you?”
Lucas flinched. “Because I was stupid enough to think time would make me forget. Instead, it made everything sharper. Every day without you felt wrong. Empty. Like my life was happening in black and white.”
He leaned forward, eyes shining with sincerity.
“And then… my father died.”
Lucy’s heart softened instantly. She had known, of course—the news had traveled quickly—but hearing him say it, hearing the tremor beneath the words, broke something inside her.
“Lucas,” she whispered, her chest tightening with sympathy she hadn’t wanted to feel, “I’m so sorry.”
He nodded, jaw clenched. “I stood at his graveside thinking about all the things he never said. All the apologies he never gave. All the love he was too proud to show.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t want to be that. Not with you. Not with the one person who ever made me feel… alive.”
Lucy blinked back tears, her throat thick. She had imagined him at that graveside—alone, grieving, drowning in memories—but she hadn’t known he’d been thinking of her.
“And that’s why you came back?” she asked.
“No,” he said quietly. “I came back because I realized I didn’t want to bury the chance of us.”
Her breath trembled.
He continued, his voice raw. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But I’m willing to start at zero. I’m willing to earn your trust again—even if it takes months. Even if it takes years.”
Lucy looked down at her hands, suddenly unsteady.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” she said honestly.
“I don’t expect you to,” Lucas replied immediately. “Not today. Not tomorrow. But I want the chance to show you. I want the chance to be better for you.”
Her eyes brimmed again, this time with confusion and something dangerously close to hope.
“Lucas…” She tried to steady her voice. “I don’t know what I want yet.”
“That’s okay,” he said gently. “Just don’t push me away before we find out.”
The rain outside thickened, blurring the world, turning the café into a cocoon—isolated, suspended. A perfect place for truths.
Lucy stared at him, searching for signs of the old Lucas—the one who ran, who shut down, who disappeared when things got hard. But she didn’t see him. Not today. Today she saw a man carrying the weight of loss, regret, and love he wasn’t afraid to admit anymore.
And that… frightened her more than anything.
“Lucas,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “if we start again… I need you to be sure. Really sure. Because I can’t go through that heartbreak twice.”
He reached across the table, slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t.
When his fingers covered hers, his voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her.
“I’m more sure of you than I’ve been of anything in my life.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Lucas brushed it away with a gentleness that made her chest ache.
For the first time in a long time, Lucy didn’t feel like she was drowning. She felt seen. Held. Not by promises, but by presence.
She exhaled shakily. “Okay.”
Lucas froze. “Okay… we try?”
“Okay… we start with honesty. And patience. And no disappearing.”
His shoulders sagged with relief, emotion flooding his eyes. “I swear.”
She nodded slowly, uncertain but willing—two fragile things balancing between fear and possibility.
But before she could say another word, her phone buzzed sharply on the table.
She glanced at the screen… and everything in her expression changed.
Lucas saw it instantly. The way her face drained. The way her hand tightened around the phone.
“What is it?” he asked, voice tight.
Lucy’s lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came out.
Then—
“It’s… my mother.”
Her eyes lifted to his, filled with sudden panic.
“She collapsed.”
And just like that, their beginning trembled.
- Writer
