Lucien stood in the doorway, tall, sharp, his presence pressing into the room like an unwelco mory. He extended a hand toward , fingers steady, eyes unreadable.
I didn’t take it.
Instead, the words ca out sharper than I ant, edged with sothing I didn’t bother hiding.
"What do you want?"
His hand hung in the air for a second before he dropped it, like he expected that answer. Like maybe he even deserved it.
"I’m here to see my sister."
I felt Val shift behind . Her voice was soft, the kind of soft she only used when her heart was pulling her in two directions.
> "It’s... fine, Kai."
I glanced at her. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even tense. She was just... soft. Hesitant-soft, like she didn’t know how to brace for him being here.
Lucien stepped inside. His movents weren’t rushed or cocky, just asured, careful. He didn’t look at her first. He looked at , like he needed permission to take another step.
"Can I sit?"
The words grated against my teeth. I didn’t want him here, not after everything. Not after what he put her through.
"Suit yourself," I muttered.
He sank into the chair. Not sprawled like he owned the place. Just... sat. Val stayed standing, arms folded. So did I.
The silence stretched. Lucien leaned in slightly, forearms resting on his thighs, but his spine stayed straight, gaze sharp. Less slouched, more deliberate.
"Seems you told him."
Val’s voice slipped out, quiet but steady. "He’s my boyfriend. So yeah."
"Figures," Lucien muttered.
I didn’t want to stand here like so useless bystander. My chest tightened, and I started, "I’ll leave you two to talk—"
But Val shook her head imdiately, her hair falling with the movent.
"No. Stay. I... want you to."
Her eyes locked with mine, and that was it. I nodded, planted my feet. If she wanted here, then I’d be here.
Another stretch of silence. The air was heavy, not tense exactly, but weighed down with things unsaid.
Finally Val spoke, her voice low, uncertain. "Why... why are you here?"
Lucien lifted his gaze to her. His jaw worked once before he said simply, "To talk."
That single word seed to cost him sothing.
He hesitated, then pushed through.
"I know I was a jerk. Am a jerk." His lips twisted, like he hated admitting it.
Val stayed quiet. Her arms still floded in front of her, and I wanted to reach for them, but I stayed still. This was theirs, not mine.
Lucien groaned, dragged a hand over his face. "But you get it, right? I didn’t an to—" He broke off, shaking his head. "You know how Dad gets."
Val’s eyes softened at that. The kind of softness that ca only with love—the ssy, unshakable kind you couldn’t just turn off, no matter what had happened.
Lucien saw it too. He shifted, voice dropping lower.
"I’m... I’m sorry. I know you probably hate ."
Her reply was barely audible. "I do."
But it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t angry. It was soft, almost tender, the kind of "I do" that said the opposite. And from the way Lucien froze, I knew he heard it too.
Lucien didn’t move. He stayed seated, staring at the floor for a long mont before finally looking up.
"Look, I screwed up, okay? What I did—using you like that, dragging Kai into it just so Dad would see you as reckless too—that wasn’t fair. It was low. Even for ."
Val flinched, just barely, and his voice wavered when he kept going.
"I was pissed at Dad, not you. But I dragged you into it anyway. And Kai. I made him look bad, and for what? To get even? That’s not big brother shit. That’s not even decent human shit." He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling hard. "I know I don’t deserve a pass. But I’m here to say it straight: I’m sorry. To both of you."
The words hung there, heavy, like he’d dropped sothing he’d been carrying too long.
Her arms slowly unfolded, though her shoulders were still tight. "You made look like a fool," she said quietly. "You made him look like a fool. Things were already hard with them and you... you only made it harder."
Lucien’s eyes flicked downward. "I know. And I hate myself for it. You’re my sister. I was supposed to protect you, not throw you under the bus just because I couldn’t handle Dad’s crap."
Val’s voice cracked, just a little. "Then why did you?"
Lucien blew out a breath, shaking his head. "Because I was selfish. Because I didn’t want to lose everything I thought was mine. Because—" he stopped, jaw tightening. "Because I was scared. And I handled it like an idiot."
The room went still.
Finally, he looked up again, eting her eyes. "I can’t undo what I did. But I’m here now, and I’m saying I’m sorry. Not just the lazy kind of sorry, the real one. I don’t want you thinking I’m just so guy who’ll burn bridges and walk away when it’s convenient. I don’t want to be that guy—not to you."
Val’s lips trembled into sothing like a smile, though it didn’t quite make it. "You really were an idiot."
Lucien huffed a laugh, faint but genuine. "Yeah. But maybe I can be a better one this ti."
Silence stretched. He rubbed his palms together, gaze dropping to the floor for a mont before lifting again. The words seed to stall in his throat, caught sowhere between pride and doubt.
Lucien swallowed. His shoulders dropped.
"Would it be—" He stopped, almost embarrassed. "Would it be okay if I...?"
Val’s lips curved into the smallest smile. She shook her head like she wanted to say no but couldn’t stop herself. Then she stepped forward and folded into him.
He hugged her back instantly, closing his eyes like it was the first ti he’d let himself breathe in days.
I caught myself smiling.
When they finally pulled apart, Lucien stood. He turned to this ti, his gaze steady, his voice heavier than before.
"Thanks for taking care of my sister. I owe you one. Probably more than one"
I arched a brow, my voice dry. "Of course you do."
Then, finally, I extended my hand. He looked almost surprised before he clasped it firmly.
"Glad I got that off my chest," he muttered, almost to himself. He released my hand, stood, and glanced at Val. For a mont, his usual confidence faltered, replaced by sothing rawer.
"I’ll... let you two be," he said, softer this ti. Then, to her, "Take care, okay?"
Val nodded, quiet but warm, and that seed to ease him just enough before he turned and headed for the door.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Val exhaled, long and shaky. When I looked at her again, her face was lighter, brighter, like soone had cut away a weight she’d been carrying for too long.
I didn’t even think about it. I just pulled her into my arms. She lted into , warm and soft, like she belonged there more than anywhere else.
In that mont, all I could think was this:
Maybe Lucien had finally done sothing right. Maybe he’d given her back a piece of peace she’d been missing.
But ? I wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not when he’d already proven he could burn us once. If he did it before, what’s stopping him from doing it again?
---
The apartnt felt heavier after Lucien left, like his presence lingered in the walls, in the air, in her.
Ten minutes had passed. Maybe more. I sat on the couch, remote in hand, pretending to care about whatever rerun was on. So sitcom laugh track played, filling the silence with noise that didn’t quite belong.
Val sat beside but not close enough. Not touching. Just... there.
I could feel her eyes on . Not just a glance, not casual curiosity—she was staring. The kind of stare that prickled across the back of your neck and made ignoring it a conscious act of will.
I held out as long as I could. Counted comrcials. Focused on the screen like I was studying for a test. But then—
> "You looked like you wanted to hit him."
I blinked, turned, and found her smirking at , her chin resting in her palm. She sounded almost delighted.
"What?"
"Lucien," she said, like it was obvious. "When he ca in. When he sat down. You looked like you wanted to punch him right in the face."
I didn’t answer right away, which, unfortunately, was an answer all on its own.
Her smirk curved into sothing softer. "Kai..."
I sighed, dropped the remote onto the cushion, and leaned back. "You’re not wrong."
Her brows rose. "You admit it that easily?"
"Yeah, because it’s true," I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. "I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. And after everything, how could I?"
She tilted her head, studying . "He’s still my brother."
"I know." The words slipped out too fast. Too defensive.
Her gaze didn’t waver, and I knew she was about to push.
So I added, quieter, "But a husband is supposed to protect his wife. Even from her own family, if he has to."
It was one of those things that sounded better in my head. Out loud, it landed with more weight than I’d intended.
She froze, blinked, then her lips parted slowly.
I knew that look.
Oh, no.
> "Aww."
I dragged a hand down my face. "Don’t."
But she already was. She scooted closer, her finger poking at my arm. "That’s so sweet, Kai. The way you said it—’a husband protects his wife.’ Like you’ve already been practicing."
"I wasn’t—"
Her grin widened, cutting off. "We should get a ring."
I choked on nothing, coughing hard enough to make my chest ache. "A—what?"
"A ring." She said it like she was suggesting takeout for dinner. Casual, mischievous. "You just called your wife. Seems like we’re skipping steps here."
"I didn’t—"
Her eyes glead, full of amusent. "So I’m not your wife?"
That was the trap. The deadly, no-way-out trap.
Because if I said no, I’d look like an asshole. And if I said yes, I was basically handing her the victory with a bow on top.
I froze. My mouth opened, but nothing good ca out. "I—I an, that’s not what I was—"
She leaned closer, enjoying every second of my suffering. "Go on, husband. Finish that sentence."
"Look, I was just making a statent—"
> "Uh-huh."
"Not... an official..."
"Wow." She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. "So I’m not your wife. Not even unofficially? After everything?"
"That’s not what I—"
"It’s okay," she cut in, her tone dripping with fake sadness. "I’ll just cry into my pillow later."
I groaned, dragging myself off the couch. "I need water."
"Uh-huh." She was already on her feet, following close behind as I moved toward the kitchen. "Water won’t save you from this conversation."
"I’m not admitting anything," I tossed over my shoulder.
"You don’t have to. You already did."
Her voice followed , light and smug, curling into the room like it belonged there. I didn’t look back, but I didn’t need to. I could hear the smile in it, see it in my head as clear as if she were standing right in front of .
And for a little while, I let myself forget the risk. Forget the weight.
Even if I knew, deep down, it was only a matter of ti before it all ca crashing back.
---
To be continued...
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