Chapter 7: The Night We Almost Told the Truth
The night started quietly, which should have warned me.
Lucien and I were too careful again, circling each other like we had something fragile balanced between us. Dinner passed with polite conversation. No teasing. No arguments. No accidental laughter. The kind of calm that feels more like tension holding its breath.
Afterward, I retreated to my room with the excuse of homework. I sat on the bed, staring at my notebook, unable to focus. My thoughts kept drifting back to the garage, to the way Lucien's voice had sounded when he admitted he was scared.
I had never imagined him afraid.
A knock came at my door, soft but deliberate.
"Yes?" I called.
The door opened just enough for Lucien to look in. "Can we talk?"
My heart thudded painfully. "About what?"
He hesitated. "Everything we keep avoiding."
I swallowed. "Okay."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, not locking it, not crossing the room. He stayed near the door like he might need a quick escape.
"I don't want to fight," he said.
"Neither do I."
Silence settled again, thick and nervous.
Lucien ran a hand through his hair. "This arrangement… it's changing things."
"That's one way to put it," I replied.
"I'm losing control," he admitted quietly.
I looked up sharply. "You? Losing control?"
"Yes," he said. "And I don't like who I become when that happens."
"What do you become?" I asked.
"Selfish," he said without hesitation. "I start thinking about what I want instead of what's right."
My chest tightened. "Is wanting me wrong?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Lucien froze. His gaze locked onto mine, intense and searching. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether wanting you hurts you."
I stood up, heart pounding. "You don't get to decide that alone."
He took a step forward, then stopped himself. "That's exactly the problem."
The space between us felt charged, every inch filled with things we hadn't said. I could hear my own breathing, shallow and uneven.
"Do you regret marrying me?" I asked suddenly.
Lucien's answer came instantly. "No."
The certainty in his voice made my throat tighten.
"Then what are you afraid of?" I whispered.
He looked away, jaw tense. "That when this ends… you'll realize I took something from you you can't get back."
I shook my head. "You didn't take anything."
"I took time," he said. "I took normal experiences. I tied you to a situation you were never supposed to be in."
"You didn't force me," I said firmly. "I chose this."
"You were desperate," he countered. "That's not the same as free."
The words hurt, even though part of me knew he wasn't wrong.
"Do you think I don't know that?" I asked, voice trembling. "Do you think I wake up every day forgetting what this costs me?"
Lucien stepped closer now, control cracking. "That's exactly why I'm scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of caring more than I should," he said. "Of wanting to protect you from things I can't control."
"Like feelings?" I asked.
"Yes."
My heart raced. "Then stop pushing me away."
"I can't," he said hoarsely. "Because if I don't, I'll cross a line I don't know how to uncross."
I laughed weakly. "You think we haven't already?"
He said nothing.
The silence stretched, heavy and unbearable.
"Tell me something," I said softly. "If this wasn't a contract… if circumstances were different… would you still choose me?"
Lucien closed his eyes.
That was answer enough.
"Don't," he said quietly. "Don't ask me things I shouldn't answer."
"Why not?" I pressed. "Afraid the truth might ruin everything?"
"Yes," he said honestly. "And afraid that lying already has."
My chest ached. I stepped closer without thinking, stopping just inches away. I could feel his warmth, his presence, the tension vibrating between us.
"This is torture," I whispered.
Lucien's breath hitched. "Then say the word, and I'll leave."
I didn't.
Neither of us moved.
The world narrowed to the space between us, to the unspoken truth pressing against my lips. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
"Arielle," Lucien said softly, like a warning.
"Lucien," I replied, like a plea.
His hand lifted slightly, hovering near my arm, not touching. The restraint in that small movement felt heavier than any embrace.
"I want to be honest with you," he said.
"So be honest," I whispered.
He swallowed. "I want you."
The words hit like lightning.
My breath caught. "Then why are you still standing there?"
"Because wanting you doesn't mean I get to take you," he replied, voice rough. "And because once we cross that line, there's no pretending anymore."
My eyes burned. "Maybe pretending is the problem."
He shook his head slowly. "Pretending is the only thing keeping us safe."
"Safe from what?" I asked desperately.
"From falling in love when we don't get to keep each other," he said.
The truth settled into my bones, heavy and undeniable.
Tears blurred my vision. "You don't know that."
"I do," he said softly. "Because I'm already there."
My heart shattered quietly.
Lucien stepped back then, creating distance that felt like a wound. "We should stop this conversation."
I nodded numbly. "Yeah."
He opened the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Arielle."
"Yes?"
"I never meant for you to matter this much."
I swallowed hard. "Neither did I."
The door closed softly behind him.
I slid down onto the bed, tears spilling freely now, hands pressed to my mouth to keep the sobs quiet. Somewhere across the hall, Lucien stood alone too, fighting his own war with silence and restraint.
That night, we almost told the truth.
And almost hurt more than silence ever could.