“Alright, Rose, step aside,” Olivia said gently, her voice soft but firm. “Let me apply some ointment on his scars.”
Rose, still sitting close to Lucian, didn’t immediately respond. She turned her head to the side, her movements deliberate as she wiped the lingering tears from her face. She couldn’t let them see her like this her swollen eyes, her tear-streaked cheeks. It’s embarrassing, she thought, her pride refusing to allow her vulnerability to linger in plain view.
“No,” Rose said suddenly, her voice sharper than intended as she turned back to Olivia. “I’ll do it.”
Her declaration startled both Olivia and Lucian, and for a brief moment, silence filled the room.
Rose reached for the box on the table and sat down beside Lucian on the couch, her movements determined. She placed the box on her lap, refusing to meet Olivia’s concerned gaze.
“Hey, calm down,” Lucian said softly, a small chuckle escaping him as he watched her flustered state. “Don’t be so overwhelmed take it easy, Rose.”
“Shut up,” she snapped, though her voice was more emotional than angry. “And let me do this.”
Her hands trembled slightly as she grabbed Lucian’s arm, intending to start, but the moment she felt him flinch, her heart sank.
Lucian let out a faint grunt of pain, and Rose froze, realizing how roughly she had grabbed him. She gritted her teeth, her frustration with herself bubbling up inside. Stupid. I hurt him…
“I… I’m sorry,” she muttered under her breath, her grip loosening immediately. She took a deep breath, her voice softer now. “Don’t move, okay? Let me do this.”
Lucian, sensing the change in her tone, sighed and nodded. He let her take his arm, though his muscles remained tense.
Rose’s hands worked carefully now, gently folding back his sleeve. She noticed how he had pulled them down earlier, clearly trying to cover the scars again. Her chest tightened at the sight, but she didn’t comment on it. She understood he didn’t want to show this part of himself.
As the scars came into view, her breath hitched. Faint, silvery lines ran along his pale skin, some overlapping, some deeper than others. The blade marks started at his wrist and climbed upward, trailing all the way to his elbow.
“Is this… is this why you always wear long sleeves?” she asked softly, her voice trembling.
Lucian didn’t respond immediately. His gaze shifted upward, staring at the ceiling as if hoping it might offer some escape.
“Umm…” he finally murmured, his voice noncommittal.
Rose bit her lip hard, her heart aching at the sight of the scars. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, her focus locked on the lines etched into his skin. Her hands shook slightly as she opened the ointment, squeezing some onto her fingers.
“Why did you do it?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible.
Her other hand reached out, her fingers brushing over the scars. Her touch was featherlight, but even so, it trembled against his skin. She traced one of the deeper lines, and the tremor in her fingers grew stronger as the reality of what he had endured settled over her like a crushing weight.
Lucian didn’t answer right away. He could feel her hands trembling on his arm, the unspoken pain in her touch. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh.
“Sigh… leave it, Rose,” he said, his voice low, almost distant. “I’ve come out of that shit now.”
His words were casual, but there was a heaviness behind them, a quiet resignation. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he leaned into the sofa.
“I know I was wrong. Maybe it was just… childishness,” he continued, his tone calm but with an edge of bitterness. “If you ask me now, I wouldn’t do it again. Not like it’s fun or anything.”
Rose’s hand froze for a moment before she continued applying the ointment. Her movements were slower now, more deliberate, as though she were trying to prolong the act of care.
“I’ve learned my lesson,” Lucian said with a faint chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I’ll stay away from that kind of thing. It’s not good for me. Love… it’s not for someone like me anyway.”
His words stung, and Rose felt her throat tighten. She bit her lip harder, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts were spiraling.
Love isn’t for him? she thought, her chest aching. Is that how he feels? That he doesn’t deserve it?
She wanted to say something to tell him not to give up, not to lose hope. But the words wouldn’t come. How could she tell him that, when she herself had been one of the people who had hurt him most? Her betrayal still hung between them, unspoken but ever-present.
A sad, broken smile formed on her lips as she worked in silence. I don’t have the right to say anything, she thought bitterly.
Lucian opened one eye slightly, glancing at her as she worked. He could see the conflict on her face the sadness in her trembling lips, the guilt in her downcast eyes.
“Rose,” he said softly, breaking the silence.
She froze, her hands stilling for a moment as she looked up at him.
“It’s alright,” he said gently, his voice calm. “I’m not angry at you. And I don’t blame you… for anything.”
Her chest tightened again, and she felt tears threatening to rise once more, but she quickly blinked them away.
“Idiot,” she muttered under her breath, her tone soft but filled with affection. “You’re always like this… trying to act so strong.”
Lucian chuckled faintly, leaning back further into the couch. “Maybe. But it’s who I am.”
Rose sighed deeply, her hands resuming their work. Her touch was gentler now, her fingers tracing over his scars with a mix of care and sorrow.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them heavy but filled with unspoken understanding.
—