His gaze dropped to the bandage on my leg, his brow creasing slightly.
“You’re hurt too? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
I smiled faintly. “Weren’t you busy taking care of me? I didn’t want to
interrupt.”
His expression darkened.
“When will you learn to stop making decisions on your own?”
I didn’t argue. I simply lifted my head, my voice steady.
“Lucas, I already have. I’ve learned when to make my own decisions—and
when not to listen to you anymore.”
Kendall spoke softly, her voice dripping like syrup.
“Don’t be angry, I didn’t mean to.”
She squeezed his hand, her eyes wide and delicate.
“I was just so scared. That cup of water yesterday—it really was my
fault.”
He bent down to soothe her, his voice so gentle I could hardly believe
it came from the same man.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “From now on, I’ll take care of you.”
I stood there, watching in silence, my nails pressing deep into my palm.
So he could be gentle—
that gentleness had simply never been meant for me.
When they left, neither of them looked back.
I lowered my head and smiled.
The smile felt like a thin needle, slowly reopening an old scar from the
inside out.
By evening, I returned to the villa.
The house was hollow and still.