CHAPTER 9
Lucas was making his way out of her house but It was late — the kind of late where the world felt hushed, like everything had paused for the night. He had to return to her house.
The rain had started as a soft drizzle, but now it streaked the windows of Emma's sitting room, filling the space with its steady rhythm. Outside, the streetlights glowed against the wet pavement, casting blurred halos in the darkness.
Lucas sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely laced. His bandaged knee throbbed, but he didn't mention it. His gaze stayed fixed on the window, as if the storm outside somehow matched the storm inside him.
Emma sat across from him on the carpet, legs tucked beneath her. She hugged a pillow to her chest, watching him — waiting, though she wasn't sure for what.
Finally, Lucas spoke, his voice low, like he was talking to the rain more than to her.
"When I was ten, my dad left."
The words hit the room like a sudden gust of wind, rattling the windows.
"He didn't say goodbye. Just left a note on the kitchen table. I still remember how the ink smudged 'cause my mom cried on it."
Lucas let out a breath, shoulders rising and falling like he was trying to steady himself.
Emma didn't interrupt. She barely breathed.
"We moved around a lot after that. Never stayed anywhere long enough to call it home."
His voice turned bitter at the edges, like he was tasting the memory.
"I stopped unpacking my stuff. What's the point when you're just gonna pack it up again a month later?"
He gave a hollow laugh.
"Guess I got good at pretending none of it mattered. Easier that way. You smile, you joke, you act like everything's fine, and people stop asking questions."
Emma felt a tightness in her chest. She wanted to say something, but the words tangled up inside her.
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his hands.
"My mom — she tried. But when you're always worried about bills, food, rent... it changes you. Makes you hard. Makes you tired."
The rain kept falling, a steady percussion against the glass.
"I started looking out for myself pretty early. Didn't want to be another problem for her."
His voice dropped lower.
"I don't even know why I'm telling you this."
Emma shifted closer, heart pounding.
"Maybe because no one's really listened before," she said gently.
Lucas glanced at her then, and for a second, the mask he always wore slipped. The storm in his eyes wasn't anger — it was loneliness. A deep, aching loneliness that Emma recognized because she'd felt it too, in different ways.
"I'm not... I'm not good at this," he admitted.
"At what?"
"Letting people in. Letting them see."
His hands clenched into fists again, knuckles white.
Emma hesitated, then reached out, resting her hand lightly on his.
"You don't have to say everything at once. Just... what you want to."
Lucas stared at their hands, as if surprised she'd touched him at all.
"There's stuff I can't explain," he said quietly. "Things I've seen. Things I've done to keep us going. And it's not the kind of stuff people understand."
Emma didn't let go.
"Try me."
Lucas drew in a shaky breath.
"Some nights, I'd stay out just so I wouldn't hear my mom crying in the next room. I'd sit on the fire escape of whatever dump we lived in and just... watch the city lights. Pretend I was somewhere else. Someone else."
His voice broke on the last word, and he fell silent, jaw tight, eyes shining in the dim light.
Emma's heart ached. She could feel his pain like it was her own.
"You don't have to pretend with me," she whispered.
Lucas shook his head, looking away.
"You say that now. But if you really knew — all of it — you wouldn't want me here."
There was no anger in his voice. Just quiet certainty, like it was a truth he'd lived with too long.
Emma swallowed hard.
"I don't care about your past," she said, her voice fierce in the softness of the room. "I care about who you are right now."
For a long moment, they just sat there, the rain filling the silence between them.
Then Lucas spoke again, so soft she almost didn't hear him.
"I thought maybe this time — this school, this town — maybe it could be different. But people see what they want. A kid who's trouble. A kid who doesn't belong."
Emma's grip on his hand tightened.
"I see you."
Lucas looked at her then — really looked. And something in his eyes shifted, like maybe, just maybe, he believed her.
The rain softened to a gentle patter.
"I should go," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"You can stay," Emma offered. "Until the rain stops."
Lucas hesitated — then nodded.
So they sat together, two souls trying to find shelter in each other's storms.
And outside, the night held its breath, as if waiting to see what would happen next.
They both stayed at the fire place warming, eating chips and revising their textbook, they chatted till Lucas nodded off.
Emma was looking at Lucas, slowly reminiscing on what happened during the day, she couldn't believe he actually
It was already dark went the doors to Emma house opened they were too deep in sleep to wake up, Elena, Emma's mom came back home after a stressful day at work she decided to request for a night shift to stay with her daughter, but she was surprised to see her with a boy.
Elena smiled slowly and said, " finally you got a friend" , she quietly made her way inside the house , she emerged 2 minutes later with a big duvet, she covered them both and went inside to sleep .
The night birds were chirping like they were singing a lullaby for people who were destined to be together.