Chapter Four : You Don’t Get to Let Go That Easily
604 Words
He came that evening.
She heard his key in the lock.
For a second, she forgot he still had access.
The door opened.
Lucien stepped inside like he had never left.
The familiarity of it made something twist in her chest.
“I’ll be quick,” he said.
He walked toward the study.
She followed without meaning to.
“You don’t need to supervise me,” he added.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Their eyes met.
The air changed.
He gathered a stack of folders from the shelf. Efficient. Controlled.
But his movements were slightly sharper than usual.
“You look worse today,” he said without looking at her.
“I told you I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
He turned then.
And this time, he didn’t mask it.
Concern. Frustration. Something almost territorial.
“You don’t get to worry about me,” she said quietly.
“Why not?”
The question came out immediate. Instinctive.
Because you ended it.
Because you chose distance.
Because I’m carrying something you don’t know about.
She swallowed all of it.
“You were certain,” she reminded him.
His jaw tightened.
“I was rational.”
“You keep saying that like it makes it hurt less.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Then he stepped closer.
Not aggressive.
Not gentle.
Just closer.
“You think this doesn’t affect me?” he asked.
His voice was lower now.
More real.
“I think you decided it wouldn’t,” she replied.
Something flickered in his expression.
For the first time, doubt.
A tiny c***k.
He noticed again the way her hand pressed against her abdomen.
This time he didn’t ignore it.
“What is that?” he asked.
Her breath stopped.
“What?”
“You keep doing that.”
Doing what?
Protecting.
She forced her hand down.
“It’s nothing.”
His eyes searched her face.
Longer this time.
Dangerously close to understanding.
“If there’s something happening,” he said slowly, “I deserve to know.”
Deserve.
The word burned.
“You don’t get to claim rights after walking away,” she said.
That hit.
He took a step back.
Not physically hurt.
Emotionally.
For the first time since the divorce, he looked… uncertain.
Not regretful.
But no longer steady.
“Is there someone else?” he asked suddenly.
The question shocked both of them.
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
His jaw clenched.
“I’m asking.”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because you’re distant. Because you won’t look at me. Because you’re hiding something.”
His voice was tight now.
Not loud.
But strained.
This was not logic.
This was emotion.
And he didn’t like that.
“There is no one else,” she said firmly.
The relief that passed through his expression was almost invisible.
But she saw it.
And that scared her more than anger would have.
He picked up his files again.
But his movements were slower now.
Measured.
“You should see a doctor,” he said finally.
“I have.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
His head snapped up.
“You have?”
Too late.
Her heart pounded.
“For stress,” she added quickly.
He didn’t look convinced.
But he didn’t push.
Not yet.
When he finally walked toward the door, he paused.
“Aira.”
She looked at him.
“If you think I walked away easily,” he said quietly, “you’re wrong.”
Then he left.
And for the first time since the divorce —
She wasn’t sure he believed his own decision anymore.
- Writer
