Page 58 of Glass Jawed
The truth is—Iletit happen. Iletthe topic fade. I told myself it didn’t matter. That we were starting over.
But now?
Now I know they sat across from each other. Reminiscing like old fucking friends. Talking about the night that devastated me.
Wait. No. I wasn’t even a topic of discussion. This was only abouthismistake.Heralleged humiliation. Nothing about me.
Where the fuck ismyclosure?
Something inside me is cracking open and it’s not fucking pretty.
I walk back into the bedroom, every part of me tense, my skin crawling like it’s trying to peel off my bones.
I grab my phone.
Scroll. Find the name I haven’t touched in more than a year. I hit unblock and type the message with the kind of clarity that only comes from fury.
Me: Meet me at this address in half an hour.
Send.
And then I sit on the edge of my bed. Breathing hard.
Feeling like the man I was becoming has been swallowed whole by the man I used to be.
Andgodhelp me—I don’t know which one of us is about to show up.
??????
“What did you just say?”
My voice comes out a hiss. I’m barely holding myself back from lunging across the room from my armchair and rearranging his guilt-wracked face.
It hasn’t even been five fucking minutes since Tim walked into my apartment, and I already feel like I’m suffocating. The air’sthick. My thoughts are static. Reality and memory are blurring, bleeding into each other like an old wound.
He’s perched on the edge of my couch like a man half his size, rubbing his palms over his jeans. Slouching. Trying to make himself look small.
Good. He should.
“It wasn’t her fault,” he says quietly, his voice cracking. “Karina told me you were dating someone named Aarohi and I—fuck—don’t blame Karina, Lucian. I couldn’t help it. I needed to see it for myself.”
I drag both hands through my hair, gripping the back of my head like I’m trying to keep my skull from splitting open.
“You’re back in my city because... what? You didn’t want me to move on? You wanted to play the fucking victim now?”
“No, I—”
“WHAT?”
The word explodes out of me, my palm slamming down on the armrest with a crack. The echo punches through the room. He flinches.
“I just...” he stammers. “I wanted to see you. I wanted to apologize.”
Apologize.
The word rings in my head like a fucking bell.
He swallows hard, eyes damp. “I didn’t expect—fuck—I didn’t believe it before. But I know now. I know neither of us has really moved on. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
