Lost
636 Words
The drive to Lucian’s mansion was quieter than usual. The road stretched ahead in long, dark ribbons, the only sound the soft hum of her tires and the occasional sigh from her car’s engine.
She kept her eyes on the road, but her mind refused to stay still.
Every memory of him flickered through her thoughts, his voice low and calm even when everything else was chaos, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her like she was something he’d never expected to have.
“Don’t overthink,” she whispered to herself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Just… see him. That’s all.”
The closer she got, the faster her heart beat. The roads near his estate were lined with tall pines, their shadows bending across the asphalt under the moonlight. When the mansion came into view, her breath caught.
His lights were on.
Warm, golden light spilled from the windows, cutting through the night. For a second, relief washed through her chest so strong it almost hurt.
“See?” she murmured, forcing a small smile. “He’s home. Probably just working late.”
She pulled up the driveway slowly, the crunch of gravel loud in the quiet. The mansion stood tall, the same elegant silence she’d come to know.
She sat there for a few seconds, hands resting on the steering wheel, trying to steady the thudding in her chest. Then, finally, she took a deep breath, got out of the car, and walked to the front door.
The air felt colder than before.
She pressed the doorbell once. The chime echoed faintly inside the house.
Nothing.
She waited a few moments, then pressed it again, longer this time.
Still nothing.
Her brows pulled together. That was strange. Lucian wasn’t the kind of man to ignore his door.
Maybe he didn’t hear it. Maybe he was on a call.
She took out her phone and scrolled to his name, pressing “call.”
The ringback tone barely had time to start before she heard it, faint ringing coming from inside the house.
Her stomach turned over.
He was home. She was sure of it. His phone was ringing just beyond the door, close enough that she could almost imagine where it was sitting. On the kitchen counter, maybe. Or the living room table.
But the ringing stopped, and no one answered.
Her heart began to pound harder. She pressed the doorbell again, her finger lingering on it this time.
Seconds passed. Then, a voice... soft, unfamiliar, female.
“Who’s there?”
Georgia froze.
The sound was muffled, coming from behind the door, hesitant, almost casual.
Her pulse thudded in her ears as the door clicked. It opened slowly, the soft light from inside spilling over her shoes.
A young girl stood there. She couldn’t have been older than her mid-twenties, sleepy-eyed, bare-faced, hair loosely tied. She blinked at Georgia like she wasn’t expecting anyone.
But what made Georgia’s blood run cold was the shirt she was wearing.
Lucian’s.
The same black button-up, hanging loose and soft around the girl’s frame.
Georgia’s gaze caught on it immediately. The collar, the faint scent of cologne that drifted out as the door opened wider.
The girl shifted slightly, pulling the shirt down over her thighs. She looked relaxed... too relaxed.
For a moment, Georgia’s mind went blank. Everything around her, the hum of crickets, the wind through the trees, even her own breathing, just… stopped.
She couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even move.
The girl tilted her head slightly, breaking the silence. “Um… can I help you?”
But Georgia didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on the shirt, on what it meant, on what it could mean.
The edges of her vision blurred, her chest tightening so hard it hurt to breathe.
- Writer
