Page 36 of Glass Jawed
But I can’t talk to Lucian about that night.
I’ve tried bringing it up—casually, softly, in passing. Every time, his jaw tightens. His mouth sets. His eyes flicker with something unreadable. He shuts it down before it even begins.
So I don’t push. I pick my battles. And I save that one—for therapy.
The Zoom screen in front of me shifts, the “waiting room” label disappearing as my therapist lets me in.
I square my shoulders, exhale through my nose, and prepare to unravel the thoughts I’ve kept carefully stitched up for three weeks straight.
The screen flickers for half a second before Ruth appears, wearing that familiar knit cardigan and her reading glasses perched halfway down her nose. Her gray hair is pulled back in a low bun, a few flyaways framing her lined but kind face.
“Good morning, Aarohi.”
“Hi, Ruth.” I smile softly, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You look cozy today.”
She chuckles. “It’s raining here. Cozy is necessary.”
A beat passes as she looks at me closely, then leans back in her chair. “So... how are you?”
The way she says it—slow, weighted—it’s not a formality. She’s asking because she knows. About that night. About everything that followed. About the person I was before and the person I’ve been trying to become since.
“I’m... okay, I think?” I exhale. “Lucian’s been... really nice. Actually.”
Ruth’s brow lifts slightly. “Ah... today is a Lucian session. What’s been happening with him?”
I don’t control the blush creeping up.
“Yeah. He texts me in the mornings before my shift. Comes by the café. We’ve had a few... I don’t know if I should call them dates, but... things have been better. Softer.”
I surprise myself with that word.
Softer.
It’s the only one that fits.
Ruth hums. “And how do you feel about him?”
“I’m...” I hesitate, my voice faltering. “I’m attracted to him. Like, in a very real, veryinconvenientway.”
That earns a knowing smile from her. “Inconvenient how?”
“Because,” I say, fiddling with the zipper of my hoodie, “I think I want more. But I’m scared to take it further.”
“You mean sex?”
I nod once, quickly, and avert my gaze. “Yeah.”
There’s a pause. Ruth doesn’t fill it. She never does. She waits until I’m ready to continue.
“It’s stupid. I know he’s attracted to me. He shows me in a million little ways. He calls me sweetheart and baby. He always notices when I’m off. He—uh... kisses me. He helps with my school projects. He’s been... patient. Like,reallypatient.”
“But?” Ruth prompts.
“But the idea of taking off my clothes in front of him... it scares the shit out of me.”
“Because of what happened that night.”
I nod again, this time slower. “He looked at me like I was disgusting. And that look... that comment... it just stuck. I still think of it at odd times.”
