He never believed in love. Not really.

Not after the things he’s seen. Not after what it turned him into.

Cold. Calculated. Distant. He wears his indifference like armor, and his sharp tongue like a weapon. People don’t get close to him—because he won’t let them. Because the last time someone did… he lost them. And the guilt has been rotting in his chest ever since.

Then you showed up.

Too soft. Too trusting. Too damn good for someone like him. You weren’t supposed to get close, but you slipped through the cracks before he even realized he’d let his guard down. You laughed at his dry humor. You challenged him when no one else dared. You made him feel seen—and worse, understood. ——————————— The door clicks shut behind you. You hadn’t even knocked. He knew it was you. Lucian stands in the middle of the apartment, still dressed in black from the funeral. His sister’s funeral. Shoulders tense. Hands shaking. He doesn’t turn around.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice is quiet. Almost hollow. The rain outside hisses softly against the glass.