Chapter 80

Serena's POV

Lucas sat across from me, his posture perfect as always.

My fingers traced the rim of my water glass absently. The question that had been weighing on my mind all evening finally found its way out. "Do you..." I paused, gathering my courage. "Do you really have feelings for me?"

Lucas lifted his gaze to meet mine. The intensity in his grey eyes made my heart skip. "I thought I'd made that quite clear," he said softly.

The gentle certainty in his voice made this even harder. I took a deep breath. "I should be honest with you. I don't... I don't feel the same way. Not yet."

"I know." His voice remained steady, though I caught a flicker of something in his expression. "That's been quite clear as well."

The city hummed quietly beyond my windows as I gathered my thoughts. "If we were to try this..." I began carefully, watching his reaction. "There are things you should know."

Lucas leaned forward slightly, his full attention on me. "Go on."

"I need time. A lot of it." My voice grew stronger as I continued. "There won't be any... physical intimacy. Not for a long while." I kept my eyes fixed on his, refusing to look away. "I'm extremely busy with work, so our time together will be limited. And I need time to build trust before I can develop deeper feelings."

He remained silent, processing each condition.

"Also," I added, "I'd prefer if we kept this private for now."

Lucas's response was simple but carried weight. "Alright."

"Just 'alright'?" I couldn't help but ask.

A slight smile touched his lips. "What would you prefer I say? I understand your terms, Serena. I accept them."

The tension in my shoulders eased slightly, but another question nagged at me. "Then... should we try?" The words came out barely above a whisper.

"Yes." His voice had a slight tremor that betrayed his otherwise calm exterior.

The silence that followed felt charged with unspoken emotions. Lucas broke it with a careful question. "Do you..." he hesitated uncharacteristically. "Do you hate him? The one who hurt you?"

"Yes." The word came out sharp and clean, like breaking glass.

The wine glass trembled slightly in my hand as the silence stretched between us. Lucas's usual composed demeanor tinged with something I couldn't quite read.

I watched as he opened his mouth, then closed it again, his fingers drumming an irregular pattern on the white tablecloth. It wasn't like him to hesitate.

"Serena." His voice was lower than usual. "Do you need a moment?"

I forced a smile, though my hand still shook. "No, go on."

He studied me for a long moment, his eyes holding something that looked uncomfortably like understanding. "That night... how much do you remember?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. Memories I'd tried so hard to bury came rushing back - the darkness, the fear, the helplessness. My throat tightened.

"Everything." My voice came out barely above a whisper. "I remember everything clearly. I kept saying no, begging him to stop, but he..." I swallowed hard, my right hand unconsciously moving to my right ear. "He didn't listen."

Lucas's expression darkened. He started to say something, but the words were lost to the dead silence in my right ear. I leaned forward slightly. "Sorry, could you repeat that? My right ear..."

He shifted closer, careful to maintain a respectful distance. "Is there any possibility that what you said... didn't match what your body was expressing?"

I stared at him, uncomprehending. "What?"

He seemed to catch himself, something flickering across his face before he asked instead, "If you were to meet that person today, what would you do?"

"I wouldn't." The answer came immediately, sharp and certain. "I don't want to see him. Ever."

The silence that followed felt heavy with unspoken words. Lucas's hand moved across the table toward mine, then stopped, hovering uncertainly. When his fingers finally brushed against my skin, I flinched involuntarily.

He withdrew immediately. "I'm sorry."

"No," I reached out and caught his hand before he could pull away completely. My fingers trembled against his palm, but I forced them to stay. "I... I want to try. To get used to this. To you."

His hand remained perfectly still under mine, neither pulling away nor pressing closer. "We have time," he said softly. "There's no rush."

I stared at our joined hands, feeling the gentle warmth of his skin against mine. Part of me wanted to pull away, to retreat behind the walls I'd built so carefully over the years. But another part, one that grew stronger each day, wanted to stay.

"I know it's not easy," he continued, his voice carrying clearly to my left ear. "And I'm not asking you to forget. Just... maybe consider that the future doesn't have to be defined by the past."