Chapter 8
305words
He must have figured out most of what had happened earlier.
When we reached my apartment, Gregory was still inside gathering the last of his things. I hesitated at the doorway. Lucas noticed: "Want to come up for coffee? I make a pretty good cup."
I turned to him, feeling guilty.
He'd kindly walked me home only to be yelled at and almost punched.
I pursed my lips. "Sorry about all this. Can you make hot chocolate instead? I prefer sweet drinks."
He paused, then his expression softened, his smile breaking through like sunshine after rain. "Of course."
His apartment was as meticulously organized as his shop—spotless, with the warm scent of dried flowers and coffee beans hanging in the air.
He gestured me to the sofa, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with two steaming mugs.
I cradled the warm mug, the sweet chocolate aroma wafting up, yet it couldn't lift the heaviness in my chest.
I wasn't heartbroken—breaking up with Gregory was my plan all along. But hearing him speak so intimately to Sophia, learning they were already meeting parents, left me feeling utterly powerless.
All my scheming, all my plotting, even at the cost of my time and emotions—was this outcome worth it?
Sophia constantly takes what's mine and tramples my boundaries. Beyond this roundabout way of "giving in," I seem unable to mount any effective counterattack. The futility exhausts me.
I hadn't spoken for a long time. Lucas didn't push. He just sat across from me, occasionally sipping his coffee.
As the steam from my cup faded, looking at Lucas suddenly sparked a thought about Gregory and Sophia. A plan formed in my mind. I looked up, meeting his gentle eyes.
"Lucas, could you help me with something?"
