Page 84 of Glass Jawed
I know Liam and the rest of the crew aren’t thrilled with Lucian. And I stopped hanging out with them.
At some point, Liam tried to tell me that Lucian’s been “working on himself”—whatever that means—but I shut it down before he could finish the sentence. I didn’t want to hear anything about Lucian’s life.
Thankfully, Liam got the message. He hasn’t brought him up since.
Which is equal parts goodandbad.
Bad because—how do you extricate yourself from a life you’ve been entangled in for months?
When your routines, your decisions, even your fucking shower times were intertwined with another person?
The loss is real. Even if the relationship wasn’t.
After Liam leaves, I pack up the leftover biryani and head to bed, trying my best not to think about him when—
Tunn-tunn!
Fucking fuck. Right on schedule.
I’m almost relieved that he doesn’t send anything personal anymore. It’s always a job posting. A networking event. A contact he thinks might help me. Which is why I haven’t blocked him. It just seemed childish considering he doesn’t bother me with fake platitudes.
Except for thatonemessage—sent a week after everything imploded.
Yes,imploded. That’s the better word.
Lucian: When you’ve done the unforgivable, how do you even begin to apologize? But I owe you more than my cowardice. And you deserve an apology. I’m so fucking sorry for what I did. I’m not proud of who I’ve become.
One day, I hope, you’re able to stand the sight of me so I can explain. Until then, please know that I miss you every day. Please take care.
Ugh.
I don’t have the energy to trust those words anymore.
They sound sincere. But then again—didn’t everything about him sound sincere?
I tap on the new message. It’s the same impersonal format as always:
Lucian: Here’s a networking event I thought you might be interested in. [link]
For your convenience, Lucian Vale will not beattending.
Reply STOP to opt-out or YES to meet with me.
Cheeky fucking asshat.
I never respond with STOP. Probably because... he keeps sending good shit.
I even attended one of the events he sent me. Although, Kash doesn’t appreciate his daily messages.
I talk to her every day.
Everydamnday.
Our calls are mostly me trying not to cry while she’s actively searching for hitmen on incognito mode.
A few days ago, I’d told her I was fine. My daily mantra. That therapy was helping. That I hadn’t cried in a week.
She didn’t believe me.
