Chapter 114 Reunion

Chapter 114 Reunion

Chloe's POV

Lester still came by every single day.

Sometimes he'd wait for me at the school gates. Other times I'd find him dozing in the back row of the practice hall. And sometimes he'd be standing in the wind, holding two coffee cups, raising one hand to wave me over.

"Got you a hazelnut latte," he'd say.

"I don't like things too sweet."

"I know." He lifted the other cup. "This one's mine. Yours is unsweetened."

One day, when I climbed into his car after leaving the piano studio, I heard him playing the concerto I'd been practicing lately.

I paused, surprised. "Since when do you listen to this stuff?"

Lester started the engine, his expression serious. "I've been working on improving my taste so you can't give me grief about it anymore."

Another time, I was having an awful day—kept messing up the same passage over and over, frustration building with every mistake.

From the back row, he started clapping. "Hey, at least you didn't trash the piano today. That's progress."

I couldn't help myself. I rolled up my sheet music and hurled it at him.

He caught it smoothly, grinning like he deserved a punch. "There we go. Don't bottle everything up and act like nothing gets to you."

These small, ordinary moments kept pushing the days forward, one after another.

I stopped staring blankly at my phone all night. I stopped waking up confused about whether I was still trapped in that abandoned building.

Sometimes I'd even catch myself thinking something strange. As if Lucas had never really been part of my life at all. As if those burning embraces, that soul-deep longing—all of it had just been some feverish dream I'd had during an exhausted spell.

Until that night.

I was sleeping lightly. Outside, the wind howled, tree shadows swaying endlessly across the curtains.

Half-asleep, I heard voices drifting up from downstairs—low, barely audible.

At first I thought it was another nightmare. I rolled over, trying to fall back asleep.

But the voice didn't fade. It stayed low, deliberate, like someone trying not to disturb anyone inside.

I sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake, my heart racing for no reason I could name.

The curtains were open just a crack. Through it, I could make out a shadowy figure standing in the yard.

Barefoot, I crossed to the window and pulled the curtain back slightly.

Two people stood beneath the tree in the backyard. One was Lester.

The other had his back to me—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark coat.

The night wind caught the edge of his jacket, and that bone-deep sense of familiarity made my breath catch instantly.

Lester's voice was hushed but full of reproach.

"You're way too impulsive. Even if the mission's over, you should've dealt with your injuries first, cleaned off all that blood before coming to see her."

The man in the shadows said nothing.

But I already knew.

It was Lucas.

My mind went blank. I yanked open my bedroom door and bolted out.

I flew down the stairs, my footsteps loud in the stillness. No coat, just my nightgown as I tore toward the backyard.

The instant I shoved the back door open, cold wind hit me full force.

Lester spun around, eyes wide. "Oh my God, Chloe—"

I ignored him completely and threw myself into Lucas's arms.

He froze for a split second. Then his arms locked around me, holding me tight.

I clung to him desperately, terrified that if I let go for even a moment, he'd vanish again.

Lucas lowered his head, pressing his forehead against the top of mine. His voice was low and rough. "I'm sorry."

I looked up. There was a fresh scrape along his brow, and his coat was streaked with blood.

"I shouldn't have come to see you like this." His gaze held mine, his throat working. "I only meant to see you from a distance, get myself cleaned up first. I didn't think I'd wake you."

My nose stung. I gripped his coat tighter. "You didn't wake me."

I sniffled, my voice muffled. "I sensed you. I usually sleep really deeply—you know that."

Lucas smiled faintly, his eyes soft with tenderness.

He didn't say anything more. Instead, his palm cradled the back of my neck as he bent down and kissed me.

The kiss was urgent and deep. The night wind was biting, but his lips burned.

All the fear, the hurt, the endless longing from our time apart—it all poured out in that single moment.

I clutched the front of his shirt, my body trembling slightly.

It was a long time before Lucas finally pulled back.

He brushed his thumb gently across the corner of my mouth, watching me quietly for a few seconds before murmuring, "Let's go inside."

His gaze dropped to the bloodstains on his clothes. His tone turned helpless. "Chloe…"

I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the house. As we passed through the entryway, I glanced back instinctively.

Lester, who always walked me to the stairs, hadn't followed us in tonight. The door closed, and his figure disappeared completely into the darkness.

I didn't dwell on it. My hand stayed locked around Lucas's. His palm was warm, marked with rough scars. The moment it pressed against mine, the weight I'd been carrying finally lifted.

We'd barely set foot on the staircase when the living room lights blazed on.

Saskia stood in the hallway in her robe, Desmond right behind her, hair disheveled—clearly just woken up.

"Chloe?" Saskia called my name, but the instant her eyes landed on the person beside me, she froze. "Oh my God."

Desmond's expression tightened. He strode forward quickly. "Lucas, you're hurt?"

Under the lights, the blood on his coat was impossible to miss.

Lucas spoke up immediately. "It's all superficial. Most of it isn't even mine. I'm really sorry for disturbing you both so late."

Saskia took a deep breath, steadying herself as she looked him over repeatedly, worry flooding her eyes. "Thank God you made it back safely."

Desmond frowned, his gaze sweeping over the injuries and bloodstains before settling on my hand gripping Lucas's. His tone was measured. "Come inside first. We'll talk."

In the living room, Saskia turned on a side lamp. The softer light eased some of the tension in the room.

Lucas stood by the sofa, guilt threading through his voice. "I wasn't able to protect Chloe properly during all this. That's on me."

I turned to him immediately. "None of this was your fault."

Desmond raised a hand, cutting me off. He studied Lucas for a long moment, then sighed quietly. "Don't take everything on yourself. What bad people do—that's never on you."

Saskia nodded repeatedly, her eyes brimming. "You came back safe. That's all that matters."

Lucas's throat moved. He seemed unaccustomed to such direct, gentle reassurance.

Desmond's gaze dropped to the injuries again. "Don't just stand there. Go take a hot shower, treat those wounds properly, and get some rest."

I grabbed clean clothes and brought them to the bathroom, tilting my head back to stare at the scrape on his face. "Are you really okay?"

"Really." He reached up and ruffled my hair. "They're just scratches."

I stayed silent. Lucas was always like this—downplaying even serious injuries, never wanting me to worry.

I lay in bed, still feeling like everything in front of me was some unreal, beautiful dream.

At some point, Lucas slid into bed beside me. His arm curled around my waist, his face buried against me, warm breath falling softly against my nightgown.

I stiffened slightly, then wrapped my arms around him.

He nuzzled against my shoulder, his voice gentle. "Chloe… there are some things I can finally tell you. All of it."