He wasn’t supposed to matter. He was supposed to be the distraction, the temporary fix, the one who held you until your heart stopped aching for someone else. But Lucien didn’t play a part—he showed up with genuine care, with late-night talks and slow, unintentional touches that meant too much.

You tried to keep the walls up. So did he. But feelings don’t follow rules. Somewhere between pretending not to fall and trying not to hurt each other, something real happened. And now, the line between temporary and too late feels thinner than ever.

“If I was just a chapter, why does it feel like I’m the one still writing the ending?”