Chapter 57 We Shouldn't Contact Each Other Anymore
Briar's POV
I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. Every muscle ached, and my throat burned. I stumbled to the bathroom, gripping the wall for support. The mirror showed flushed cheeks against pale skin. I grabbed the digital thermometer from the medicine cabinet. 102.6°F. Great.
I texted Lily with clumsy fingers. Running fever. Won't make it in today. Please handle the Riverside Clinic follow-up and confirm Eric's lab schedule for tomorrow. Let me know if anything urgent comes up.
I swallowed some fever reducers and crawled back into bed, pulling the blanket tight around me. My thoughts drifted, foggy and unfocused.
My phone buzzed near my pillow, but I didn't have the energy to check it. It buzzed again. And again. I let the sounds fade as exhaustion pulled me under.
When I woke, the light had shifted from morning brightness to soft afternoon gold. 5:47 PM. My temperature had dropped to 99.3°F—still elevated but better. I ordered delivery, then dragged myself into a lukewarm shower.
Wrapped in my bathrobe with dripping hair, I finally checked my phone. Twelve unread messages. Most were from Lily with status updates. Three from Owen complaining about Eric's unusually foul mood, asking if I knew what crawled up his ass. And one from Eric himself: [You didn't come to the lab today. Everything okay?]
Before I could respond, my phone rang. Unknown number. My stomach clenched because I knew, somehow I just knew, it was Lucian. I answered without thinking.
"Hello?"
"Still mad at me?" His voice was careful, testing.
My throat was still rough from the fever and my voice came out raspier than I intended. "Mad about what."
"So you are still..." He paused, and I heard him exhale. "Are you sick?"
"No. Just my throat. It's nothing." I kept my tone flat, distant. "If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up."
"Wait." He rushed the word out. "You left something in my car. The gift for Reginald. I could bring it to you, or—"
"Just give it to Reginald yourself." I cut him off cleanly.
Silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. Then Lucian's voice came back, quieter but more direct. "The gift is just an excuse, Briar. I want to see you. Can I?"
My chest tightened. Julian's threat echoed in my head, his fingers digging into my chin, his voice promising to destroy everything I'd built if I didn't stay away from Lucian. And then Leah's wallpaper flashed again, that stupid photo of her and Lucian looking so perfect together, so uncomplicated.
I took a breath that hurt going down. "We shouldn't contact each other anymore."
"Is this because of Julian?" The question came fast, almost desperate.
I hung up without answering. My hands were shaking as I set the phone down on the nightstand, screen-side down so I wouldn't have to see if he called back.
The doorbell rang twenty minutes later. I dragged myself up to answer it, expecting the grilled salmon with quinoa salad I'd ordered. Instead, the delivery guy handed me a bag from a completely different restaurant. I checked the receipt. Chicken noodle soup. Not what I ordered. I started to say something but he was already walking away, and I was too tired to chase him down.
Back in my apartment, I stared at the container of soup. Chicken noodle. The smell hit me first, that specific combination of broth and overcooked noodles.
Now I sat on my bed with the takeout container, mechanically lifting the spoon to my mouth. The soup was too salty and the noodles were mushy and I hated it, hated every bite, but I was so hungry and so tired that I kept eating anyway.
Tears started sliding down my face somewhere around the halfway point, mixing with the broth, and I didn't bother wiping them away. I just kept eating until the container was empty, soup and tears and exhaustion all blending together into one miserable mess.
"Does everything you hate eventually become something you get used to?" I whispered to the empty room, my voice cracking on the last word.
I set the empty container aside and curled up on my bed, pulling my knees to my chest. The tears kept coming, soaking into my pillow, and I let them. I was so tired of being strong, so tired of holding everything together, so tired of pretending I could handle this life I'd been forced into.
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Leah's POV
I was coming back when I spotted him. Lucian was sitting on the bench outside our apartment building, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling up into the evening air. His posture was all wrong, shoulders hunched forward, jaw tight, eyes fixed on nothing. At his feet were five or six cigarette butts scattered on the pavement.
My heart did something complicated in my chest, a mix of concern and something darker I didn't want to name. I'd never seen Lucian like this.
I set my grocery bags down and sat down beside him, close enough to talk but not close enough to crowd him.
"Lucian?" I kept my voice soft. "What happened?"
He didn't answer immediately. Just took another drag from his cigarette and stared at the darkening sky. Up close, I could see his eyes were slightly red, the skin beneath them shadowed with exhaustion.
"Is this about Briar?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His head turned toward me slowly, smoke drifting from his lips as his gaze found mine. The look in his eyes was searching, almost questioning, and I felt my pulse quicken.
I rushed to explain. "Ash was talking about her last night. A lot. And I'm her roommate, so I know her a little." The lie came easily, smoothly.
Lucian looked away again. Several seconds passed before he made a sound, a quiet "Mm" that could have meant anything or nothing.
That single syllable hurt more than it should have. I'd been in love with Lucian for years, had watched him from a distance and up close, had memorized every expression and mood, and he'd never looked at me the way I'd just seen him look at nothing while thinking about Briar. The jealousy that had been simmering in my chest since I saw Julian carry Briar home flared hotter.
"I saw Julian bring her back last night," I said, keeping my tone carefully neutral. I paused, letting the words hang there, then added with just the right amount of hesitation, "Their clothes were... disheveled. It looked like they..."
Lucian pulled the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it in his bare hand, the ember dying between his fingers. His eyes fixed on me, sharp and cold in a way that made my breath catch. "Looked like what?"
The words I'd planned to say stuck in my throat. I'd wanted to plant the seed, to make him think Briar was sleeping with Julian, to poison whatever feelings he had for her. But the way he was looking at me now, with that icy, analytical stare, made me realize how transparent I was being.
I backpedaled, trying to sound reluctant instead of malicious. "I've said this much. Can't you figure out the rest?"
Lucian brushed ash from his fingers, the motion deliberate and controlled. "I can't figure it out. Because I don't put labels on people without knowing the full story."
"I didn't want to judge either," I said quickly, "but seeing her with Julian multiple times, hearing all those rumors... I started thinking maybe they're true."
He didn't respond to that. Instead, he said, "You grew up in a loving family. You've had financial security and emotional stability your whole life."
The observation felt like a slap. I opened my mouth to argue but he continued, his voice softer now but no less cutting.
"Getting to know someone requires effort and empathy. It means looking beyond surface appearances and secondhand gossip. It means not condemning someone based on a few snapshots of their life taken out of context." He paused, and something in his expression shifted, became almost gentle. "You haven't lived her life, Leah. You don't understand what it means to have no choice. So please, don't say things like that again."
My face burned with shame and anger and hurt. I knew he was being kind by putting it this way, knew he could have been much harsher, but my eyes still stung with tears. "I don't believe she's as good as you think she is."
Lucian tilted his head back to look at the stars beginning to appear in the darkening sky. "Believe what you want. I know what I know. That's enough for me."