The ride to Lucien's apartment was filled with silence.
Elowen sat stiffly in the passenger seat, holding her breath as if she was afraid to make a sound. She stared out of the window, watching the streetlights blur past. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Lucien hadn't said a single word since they left the hospital.
"What would you like to have for dinner?"
Lucien's voice broke the silence for the first time.
Elowen turned to look at him. He gave her a brief glance before returning his eyes to the road.
She didn't reply immediately. She was still staring at him.
"Is there something on my face?" Lucien asked, his eyes still focused ahead.
"No… I—" Elowen stammered and quickly looked away.
She didn't know why she had been staring. Maybe everything that was happening still felt unreal to her.
"I don't know," she finally said softly. "I'll eat anything."
"Alright," Lucien replied calmly.
He turned the steering wheel and soon parked in front of a supermarket. He switched off the engine.
"Stay here. I'll be right back," he said as he stepped out of the car.
Elowen nodded and watched him walk into the supermarket. She released a slow breath. She didn't know how living with him would be, but she could only hope for the best.
Her mother's actions at the hospital had pushed her into making the decision to leave the Whitemere family.
She had gone there hoping to express her pain to her mother, even though she was believed to be mentally disabled. Elowen thought she would at least find comfort. Instead, her mother had hit her, shouting that she should never leave the Whitemere family. That no matter what the Whitemeres did to her, she must accept it because it was her fate.
Elowen had wondered how it could be her fate.
If her mother hadn't entangled herself with a married man, would she have been born only to endure mockery and shame?
She had left the hospital with one clear thought: even if this was her fate, she would change it. She had endured enough. She couldn't anymore.
Paa.
The sound of a car door closing pulled her out of her thoughts.
She shivered in fright as she realized Lucien had returned.
"Why do you look scared?" Lucien asked calmly, concern flickering in his eyes. He had noticed how easily startled she was.
"I wasn't scared," Elowen replied softly with a faint smile. "I was just lost in thought."
"Deep thought?" Lucien asked, turning slightly to look at her. "About what?"
Elowen hesitated. She searched his face, wondering if he was truly asking. Though she would be staying with him, she had no intention of telling him about her family.
"You looked so deep in thought, it must have been something serious," Lucien continued, then paused, silently cursing himself for talking too much. He had always been a man of few words outside his work as a detective. Yet, since meeting her, he had spoken more than he ever had to any woman.
"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," he added softly and started the car.
"It's not that I don't want to tell you," Elowen said after a moment, inhaling deeply. Sadness lingered in her eyes. "I just don't want to talk about it."
"I understand," Lucien replied with a nod.
The drive from the supermarket to Lucien's apartment was short. They arrived within minutes.
Lucien parked the car, helped Elowen out carefully, then went to the trunk to get the groceries.
The building was a bungalow. It was known as Palm Crest.
"That will be your room," Lucien said, pointing to a room at the corner.
The bungalow had only two bedrooms with attached bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a small study. Everything was neatly arranged—simple, organized, fitting for a detective.
"Have some rest," he added. "Dinner will be ready soon."
"Thank you," Elowen said sincerely, her eyes sparkling.
"No more thanking me," Lucien said gently as he headed toward the kitchen.
Elowen had thanked him so many times that he no longer found it necessary. He had chosen to let her stay—it was his decision.
Left alone in the living room, Elowen looked around quietly. Everything there looked expensive. Having grown up in the Whitemere family, she could recognize quality when she saw it. She could only conclude that Lucien lived comfortably.
In the kitchen, Lucien arranged the groceries properly. He rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and began to cook. His movements were smooth and practiced as he cut the vegetables, as if he had done it many times before.
Forty-five minutes later, he stirred the stew one last time and turned off the stove. The meal was ready. He served the food and set the dining table.
When he went to call Elowen, he found her asleep.
Her head leaned awkwardly against her wheelchair, almost slipping. Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed softly.
Lucien stood in front of her, shifting his weight to one leg, arms folded as he studied her face.
She looked peaceful—nothing like the distressed woman from the previous day. He didn't want to wake her.
At the hospital, he had overheard what Stella said to her.
So she wanted to be an actress, he thought, his brow lifting slightly.
Just then, Elowen's eyes opened suddenly, as if something had startled her from a dream.
"Dinner is ready," Lucien said, clearing his throat. He had been caught off guard by her sudden awakening.
Elowen blinked in confusion before fully coming back to herself. She adjusted in her wheelchair and followed Lucien to the dining table.
They settled, and Lucien placed food in front of her.
Elowen couldn't help but wonder how he had cooked so quickly. She wasn't surprised that he knew how to cook—most men did these days.