CAUGHT IN HER EYES

QUIET LONGING

SOMEWHERE IN NEW ZEALAND

Lucy arrives at Martin's mansion. She hesitates for a moment, then knocks. A maid opens the door and gestures for her to come in. Laughter and the sharp ping of a ping-pong ball echo through the house.

Lucy: "Mu..."

The word slips out softly, like a half-forgotten memory.

Martin, mid-swing with a paddle, freezes. His eyes widen.

Martin: "Lucy?!"

The paddle clatters to the floor as he rushes toward her. Instinctively, Lucy opens her arms. They hug—long, tight, as if trying to hold back fifteen years in one embrace.

Lucy: "Martin... I... I can't believe it."

Martin: "I can't believe you're here. I thought... I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again."

They pull back just enough to see each other, then hug again, unable to let go.

Lucy: "I've missed you so much. Fifteen years..."

Martin: "I know. I've missed you too. Every stupid little thing I did—I thought about you."

They laugh softly through tears, hugging once more.

A sudden cough interrupts. They step back, blinking, as a young woman—23 years old—stands near the ping-pong table.

Even: "Uh... guys? Hello?"

Martin clears his throat, smiling, though his eyes remain warm with Lucy's presence.

Martin: "Oh! Right... Lucy, this is Even. She's a friend of mine."

Lucy: "Hi..."

Even: "Hi, Lucy. I've heard about you... Martin talks about his childhood best friend all the time."

Lucy and Even shake hands. Polite. Cautious. Even feels a flutter in her chest—a pang she can’t hide—watching Lucy’s eyes linger on Martin a little too long.

Even (thinking): She’s… perfect. Of course, she is.

Lucy: "It's... nice to meet you, Even."

Even: "You too. Really."

Martin: "Well... now that introductions are done, maybe we can—"

Lucy laughs, brushing her hair back.

Lucy: "I think we have more important things to catch up on first."

Even steps back politely, her heart tightening. She watches them, invisible and small, wishing she could feel less.

Martin: "You're right. Fifteen years is a lot of catching up."

Lucy: "It's been way too long, Martin."

BALCONY

Lucy: "I... had to leave Canada, Martin. Things with my mom... they were unbearable. She wanted me to marry someone I don’t even love."

Martin: "I'm sorry, Lucy... I had no idea it was that bad."

Lucy: "It wasn’t just bad—it was suffocating. Every day, I felt like I was being forced into someone else's life. Someone wealthy, someone 'perfect' in her eyes. But not me."

Even leans against the wall, arms crossed, voice quiet: "And the guy she chose… you’re not interested?"

Lucy glances at her, smiling faintly: "No. My heart… it’s elsewhere."

Even’s chest tightens. Her stomach knots. She wants to speak, to tell her own truth, but the words die in her throat.

Even (thinking): Elsewhere… of course.

Even: "I see..."

Lucy: "And I came here not just to escape... but to build something I care about. My fashion company—I call it IKON. I want to grow it into something real, something mine, without anyone else's expectations weighing me down."

Martin watches her, soft, almost mesmerized.

Martin: "You've always had that fire, Lucy. I knew it would take you somewhere big."

Lucy, smiling faintly, almost wistfully: "I hope so. But it’s not just the company. It’s freedom, Martin. And… maybe… it’s a chance to figure out the rest of me. Who I am, who I want to be."

Even swallows hard, forcing herself to look away. Her hands fidget with the railing.

Even: "So… you’re not interested in the guy your mom chose because… you’re interested in… someone else?"

Lucy shrugs, almost shyly: "Yes. Something else. Who isn’t him."

Even feels a sharp sting in her chest. Her vision blurs for a moment. She forces a smile, but it’s brittle.

Even (thinking): Something else… Of course Martin.

Even: "I understand..." Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she looks down, pretending to examine the balcony floor.

Martin, oblivious to her storm of emotions, smiles: "Well… that clears it up, I guess."

Even steps back, heart heavy, voice quiet: "I get it… it’s just… hard sometimes. Seeing someone you care about… and knowing the part of their heart they show you… isn’t for you."

Lucy: "Even…"

Even shakes her head, blinking back a sudden sharp sting of tears. "It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I just… I want you to be happy, Lucy. That’s all I need to know."

Martin frowns, noticing her unease: "Even… are you sure you’re okay?"

Even: "Yes. I just… I care too much, that’s all."

Even watch Lucy and Martin, her chest aching with longing she can’t name. She swallows again, forcing a calmness she doesn’t feel, and turns slightly away.

Even (thinking): I’ll step back. I’ll let her have him… I’ll let her have everything. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Lucy senses the tension but doesn’t fully understand it. Her gaze shifts back to Martin. Freedom, IKON, and the chance to find herself—these are why she’s here. But Even… Even’s quiet heartbreak lingers like a shadow she can’t see, yet can feel.

Morning arrived quietly.

Sunlight slipped through the tall windows of the mansion, settling gently on the polished floors and pale curtains. The air felt calm, almost forgiving—too calm for the storm inside Even’s chest.

She sat by the window, knees drawn close, staring at the garden without really seeing it.

Her thoughts had already traveled ten years back.

Back to the girl she used to be.

She remembered the darkness clearly—the silence after the funeral, the hollow weight of the world once her parents were gone. No voices calling her name. No warmth waiting at home. Just grief, heavy and endless.

And then there was Martin.

He hadn’t saved her. He hadn’t promised miracles.

He had simply stayed.

He made sure she ate. He asked if she slept. He spoke to her when she didn’t have the strength to answer. When the nights were unbearable, he sat beside her without asking questions. When she cried, he didn’t tell her to stop.

Back then, that was enough.

She never asked for more. She never expected love, or affection, or anything that belonged in fairytales. She was just grateful to be seen—to matter to someone.

But time has a cruel way of changing needs.

They were grown now. No longer children hiding from pain. And somewhere along the way, Even’s gratitude had turned into longing.

She had seen it—the way Martin looked at Lucy.

Not just recognition. Not nostalgia. Something softer. Something deeper.

The affection in his eyes when he spoke to Lucy was the kind Even had waited for. The kind she had hoped for but never received. With her, Martin was protective, kind, steady—like a brother.

With Lucy… he was something else entirely.

Her chest tightened.

Who was she to want more?

Just an orphan.

A girl taken in.

Someone who should be thankful for what she has been given.

Even swallowed hard, blinking away the ache rising in her throat. Wanting what was never meant for you hurt more than losing something you once had.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Miss Even,” the maid called gently from the doorway. “Breakfast is ready. They’re waiting for you at the dining table.”

Even straightened slowly, schooling her face into calm.

“I’ll be there,” she replied, voice steady despite the weight in her heart.

As she stood and followed the sound of morning voices, she reminded herself of the one thing she had learned long ago—

Some love is meant to be felt quietly.

And some hearts must learn how to break into silence.

Even arrived at the dining table a few minutes later.

Lucy looked up immediately. She didn’t say anything at first—just watched her. Really watched her. The way her shoulders sat a little lower than usual. The faint redness around her eyes that hadn’t fully faded.

Lucy tilted her head slightly.

Lucy: “Even… are you okay?”

Even: “Yes.”

Lucy: “You sure? Your eyes look… tired.”

Even: softly “I’m fine, Lucy. Really. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Lucy: “Okay…”

(A brief silence.)

Even: “You can stop looking at me like that.”

Lucy: quiet smile. “Like what?”

Even: “Like you’re trying to read something I haven’t said.”

Lucy: “I’m not trying to read you.” (gentler) “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

(Footsteps approach.)

Martin: “Breakfast’s ready.”

(He sets the dish down.)

Martin: “Come on, sit. It’s still warm.”

(Chairs move.)

Even: “I’ll sit here.”

(She pulls out a chair two seats away from Martin.)

Martin: “Lucy, sit. You haven’t eaten yet.”

Lucy: absently “Mm.”

(Lucy sits—not next to Martin, but beside Even.)

Martin: “Oh—okay.”

(He starts serving food.)

Martin: “You remember this, right? You used to love it. I added extra seasoning like before.”

Lucy: “Yeah…”

Martin: “Eat while it’s hot.”

(Silence. Plates clink.)

Martin: “Lucy?”

(No response.)

Martin: “Lucy?”

(He looks up.)

Martin: “What’s wrong?”

Lucy and Even break eye contact at the same time.

Lucy: “Nothing.”

Even: “Nothing.”

Martin: “You both look like something’s wrong.”

Lucy: quickly “We’re fine.”

(Lucy reaches for the serving spoon.)

Lucy: “You should eat more, Even.”

(She places food gently onto Even’s plate.)

Even: surprised “Lucy—”

Lucy: “You barely touched yours.”

Even: soft “Thank you.”

After breakfast, the mansion slowly emptied.

Martin left first, dressed sharply, already halfway into his work calls before the front door closed behind him. Lucy followed not long after, keys in hand, her mind elsewhere—IKON waiting for her, unfinished plans pulling her forward.

Even was left alone.

The house felt too large in the quiet.

She curled up on the couch with a novel, turning pages without truly reading. Her thoughts drifted back to the breakfast table—the way Lucy had looked at her, the way Martin hadn’t. The unspoken tension lingered like unfinished sentences.

She sighed, pressing the book closed for a moment.

Her phone rang.

Even glanced at the screen and answered.

Martin’s Mother: “Even, my darling! How is everyone?”

Even: “They’re fine. Martin went to work early, and Lucy left shortly after.”

Martin’s Mother: “Good, good. And you? Are you eating properly?”

Even smiles softly “Yes. Don’t worry.”

Martin’s Mother: “You sound quiet.”

Even: “Just a calm morning.”

Martin’s Mother: “Make sure you take care of yourself while I’m gone, hmm?”

Even: “I always do.”

Martin’s Mother: “And take care of Lucy too. She’s adjusting.”

Even: “I will.”

Martin’s Mother: “Oh—and don’t forget the novels I left in my study room. I know you like those.”

Even: gentle, “I won’t forget.”

Martin’s Mother: “Good. I’ll call again soon. Enjoy the peace.”

Even: “Enjoy Hawaii.”

(Call ends.)

Even returned to her book, this time actually reading. Time passed quietly—pages turning, sunlight shifting across the room.

The front door opened around three.

Lucy: “I’m back.”

Even: “Welcome home.”

Lucy paused, looking at Even for a few seconds—long enough for Even to notice.

Even: “What?”

Lucy: “Nothing.”

Lucy turned and headed upstairs. A short while later, she returned in gym clothes, tied her hair up, and moved through the kitchen with practiced ease. Blender. Protein powder. Ice.

Even watched quietly from the couch.

Lucy walked to the small gym corner and began her workout, focused, controlled.

The doorbell rang.

Even: “I’ll get it.”

Neo: “EVEN!”

Even: “Neo.”

Neo: “I brought the novel you asked for.”

Even: “Thank you.”

They hugged briefly.

As Even stepped aside, Neo’s eyes drifted past her.

She went quiet.

Her gaze lingered—slow, obvious, unfiltered—following Lucy’s movements as she worked out. The flex of her arms. The focus. The ease in her body.

Lucy noticed. She glanced up once, unreadable, then went back to her routine.

Neo swallowed, still staring.

Even shifted slightly, placing herself between them.

Even: “Neo.”

Neo blinked, realizing she’d been caught.

Neo: “Oh—sorry.”

She handed Even the book, still glancing past her shoulder.

Even didn’t smile.

Even: “You said you were in a hurry.”

Neo: hesitating “Yeah. I did?”

Even: “Yes.”

A pause

Neo: Right. I did.”

Even opened the door.

Even: “Thank you for the book.”

Neo: hesitating “Yeah. Anytime.”

Neo left, casting one last look inside before the door closed.

The house fell quiet again.

Lucy returned fully to her workout, as if nothing had happened.

Even standing still, the novel pressed against her chest, jaw tight—uncertain why the sight of Neo’s gaze had unsettled her so deeply.

But she knew one thing.

She hadn’t liked it. Not even a little.