Page 15 of Glass Jawed

Aarohi

It’s not easy to forget the exact words looping through my mind since Tim showed up at the café.

The uncomfortable buzz in my chest hasn’t left me since. I could pretend I had no intention of talking to him—ever.

And honestly, I didn’t. My resentment was double-edged: not only had he used me, he also broke the heart of the man I was now, quietly, calling mine .

Tim hadn’t denied that he’d practically stalked Lucian that morning, showing up right outside the café just in time to catch us kissing.

He looked uncomfortable even saying it— “I saw him kissing you.”

But this wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about jealousy, or heartbreak, or old wounds.

At least... not on the surface. I’d shut him down immediately. There was no way I could hold a conversation with someone who had made the conscious choice to cheat. And use me.

Who had walked into my life like a wrecking ball—for his own curiosity. Someone who’d chosen to lie instead of communicate.

But then he said it.

Those words.

“I just need a few minutes. I... I’m not sure why but—maybe it’ll give some closure? To you or me... I don’t know. But I really hope you can give me a few minutes.”

And something in my brain had clicked.

Closure.

Maybe talking to Tim wouldn’t give me peace, but wasn’t Lucian just as much of a closed door in his own way?

Which is how I find myself—a few days later—sitting across from Tim in a random breakfast café.

Neutral ground. No memories.

He looks nervous.

Not in the dramatic, falling-apart way. Just... tired. Human.

“Listen...” he starts, fingers tightening around his mug. “It’s clear that—fuck—you’ve moved on. You both have. I can see that. But... I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

His eyes meet mine then. There’s guilt in them. A lot of it.

“I was wrong,” he says simply. “I shouldn’t have used you. Or put you in a situation where you felt—humiliated. But—”

“Don’t tag a ’but’ onto an apology, Tim,” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intend. “Change your phrasing.”

He swallows and nods. “Right. You’re right.

Fuck, I’m sorry. I was lost. I was going through something.

But I should’ve... I don’t know, talked to him first. Broken up if I was unsure.

Done therapy—hell, I’m doing it now . I’ve figured out why I was curious.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t excuse anything.

I made a stupid choice. And it hurt three people. ”

I nod. I don’t say anything. I’m not here to forgive.

But something settles inside me—not relief, not validation... just quiet. Like I’d needed someone to say the words. And maybe that’s what I’ve been waiting for from Lucian too.

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I used you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I let him hurt you.”

He’s breathing hard now. Chest rising too fast for someone seated. “This is hard to say but... I don’t regret you. It gave me a way forward . It’s just the way I went about it, you know? But I am sorry.”

When I don’t respond he continues. “You’re the first on my apology train. But... thanks for listening.”

After a pause, I rise—grabbing my bag. “Thank you for saying that. I appreciate it. It doesn’t change anything... but I hope you found some peace with yourself.”

He gets up too, leaving his full cup of tea untouched.

He nods but says nothing.

And just as he’s about to walk out, I hear him murmur under his breath —”I’m getting there.”

When Tim walks out, I sit back down, the seat still warm from my slight panic.

Dread creeps up my spine, inch by inch, until it coils in the base of my neck like a fist.

Because now I have to tell Lucian. And I have no idea how . Worse—no idea when . Or if I’ll even get the chance.

I’m not optimistic—what with the way he always shuts down the topic.

Fuck.

I grab my coffee, shove the lid on, and rush out. My head’s buzzing.

As I reach the front doors of the café, Kashvi’s voice creeps in like an unwanted whisper.

“Him avoiding it is a red flag.”

Shit.

It is, isn’t it?

I have to figure out a way to bring it up. To tell him.

But the moment I push the door open, I freeze.

Liam’s standing outside, arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly—not with anger, but with curiosity.

“Hey,” he says flatly. “How do you know that guy?”

No playful grin. No teasing ’my barista girl’ . Just a blank acknowledgment and a dreadful question.

My breath hitches.

“I... I think you should talk to Lucian about it. Not me.”

Liam’s voice sharpens. Not loud—just firmer.

“Aarohi.” He takes a step closer. “How do you know Tim?”

My palms are sweaty against the paper cup.

He’ll find out anyway. Tim’s here. He’s not disappearing for another few weeks.

I force a breath out.

“I’m... the woman Tim cheated with.”

Suddenly Liam’s bright confused eyes reduce to a lethal dullness. “Could you repeat that?”

I hate this. I hate how small I feel when I say it.

“I-I’m the woman... Tim cheated on Lucian with. Last year.”

The shift in Liam’s face is terrifying. His bright, curious eyes go flat. Hollow.

I see the exact second understanding dawns. He turns. Swift and decisive. He’s leaving.

“Wait!” I whisper-yell, grabbing his arm.

But my fingers are trembling, and I’m already shaking—panic crawling all over me like static.

“Liam, please. Oh God. You’re going to tell him. But I will tell him, I swear, I just—I need a second. You’ll beat me to it and then I’ll be the villain in the story again and—”

I can’t breathe. My vision blurs slightly. My chest tightens.

“I’ll be the evil witch, the home wrecking slut who kept this from him—”

“Hey. Hey.”

Liam gently pulls his arm from my grip but doesn’t step away. “Calm down.”

He looks around, lowering his voice. “Tell him what, exactly?”

“That I met Tim today,” I manage, my voice cracking.

He exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw.

“Okay... so. I wasn’t here. Deal?”

I blink. “What?”

“You planned to tell him, right? So... I wasn’t here. You do it your way. But you still tell him.”

Relief hits so fast my knees nearly give out. He grabs my shoulders and I lean into him slightly.

“Thank you,” I breathe, shaken.

He studies me for another second, then asks, “Now tell me why you damn near hyperventilated just now.”

“I...” I swallow. “It’s hard. Talking to Lucian about it. I know I need to tell him about meeting Tim but I feel like... he’ll just shut down the second his name leaves my mouth.”

Liam frowns. “Wait—so how did you guys talk about it early on? Like, in the beginning?”

“We didn’t.”

He stares. “Come again?”

“We... never talk about that night.”

His jaw clenches.

“You’re telling me you two just started dating like none of that ever happened?”

“No. I mean—he said it was the past. That we should move on.”

“So... you don’t talk about it. At all?”

I shake my head.

He sighs. Deep and long. “Jesus.”

Then he looks at me—really looks—and tilts his head slightly.

“Darling, I need to ask something. And I need you to answer honestly.”

“Okay.”

“Did you know Tim was in a relationship?”

My stomach drops.

“What the fuck? Of course not! Tim told me he was single,” I snap. “Why would you even—Lucian thought the same. At first.”

I stare at him, stung. “Do I give off Jezebel vibes to you?”

“No, barista girl,” he says with a small smile. “You don’t. I believe you.”

It sounds eerily similar to what Lucian had said initially. I’m half tempted to trust those words.

But even now, even after all these months—there are still pieces of that night clinging to me.

Like they’ll never fully wash off.

??????

That Saturday, Lucian and I are a tangled mess in his bed—legs intertwined, skin still warm from a slow morning. The kind of morning that makes you think life could always be this soft.

My shift at the café starts in a couple hours. Which means this is my window.

Now or never.

I tell myself that if I bring it up now, at least I’ll be giving him space afterward. Let him process it alone. On his terms.

I texted Liam earlier.

Me: Today’s the day. Please don’t say anything yet.

I wish Kashvi were still here.

She flew back almost a week ago, but she’d helped me map out what to say. What not to say. She’d even coached me on what kind of reaction to expect from a man like Lucian—one who doesn’t like to look back.

Now, all of that prep feels like dust in my mouth.

I slowly sit up, propping myself on one elbow.

Lucian’s lying flat, his arm slung lazily over his stomach. His lips are slightly parted. He looks... peaceful. Like something heavy in him had finally rested.

And I’m about to ruin that. Fuck.

I lean over and brush my fingers against his jaw. “Luc...”

He cracks one eye open, smiling sleepily. “Mmm.”

“I need to tell you something,” I say, gently. “But I need you to let me finish. Just hear me out. Please don’t shut me down.”

His smile twitches, fades a little. “Baby, is this a ’we need to talk’ kind of moment?”

I laugh nervously. “No. Not at all.”

I push myself upright, sitting cross-legged now. Lucian mimics the motion, sitting back against the headboard, studying me. The softness is gone from his features. It’s not hostility—just quiet alertness. A flicker of apprehension behind his eyes.

I take a breath.

“Tim approached me a few days ago... and we talked.”

I don’t sugarcoat it. No buildup. No excuses. Just the truth.

His expression hardens instantly. That’s all it takes.

I rush to fill the silence. “I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else, so I’m telling you. I’ll walk you through exactly what we talked about—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

His voice is sharp. Not loud. But final.

“Lucian, please ,” I say, grabbing his hand. “I’m not defending him. I just need you to know.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I didn’t say much to him. I shut him down at first, but he said he wanted closure. That maybe it would help me, too.”

Lucian looks away. He’s staring past me now. Like there’s something on the wall he needs to burn a hole through.

I press on.

“He apologized. For everything. For using me, for humiliating me. For hurting three people. Said he was confused, that he was going through something. Said he’s in therapy now. That he’s been figuring stuff out.”

Lucian scoffs under his breath. A sharp exhale. It hurts more than I expected.

“He wasn’t making excuses,” I add quickly. “He owned up to it. I didn’t forgive him—I just... acknowledged it. That’s all.”

I pause. Hoping he’ll say something. Hoping I haven’t shattered the fragile thing we’ve been building. So I decide it’s not wise to tell him that Tim apparently doesn’t regret me. He should . But I don’t want to hurt Lucian with that.

“He said I was first on his apology train. I’m guessing you’re probably next.”

Lucian finally looks at me. But it’s not the look I know. Not the warmth. Not the longing. Not even the pain.

It’s distance. Something very close to what I saw that dreaded night.

“I’m glad you told me,” he says at last, his voice devoid of inflection. “If he reaches out, I’ll talk to him.”

That’s it.

Nothing more.

No touch. No reassurance. Just... cold quiet.

I wait a few seconds, searching his eyes for something—anything—that might tell me we’re okay. That I didn’t just split us down the middle.

But I see nothing. Just... glass.

He shifts away from me. Pulls the covers up around his waist and stands.

Then, in a voice that sounds too much like the old Lucian—the version I met last year, the one who humiliated me—he mutters. “You better shower and get ready for your shift.”

My heart drops. He’s not yelling. He’s not even angry.

He’s just... gone.

I sit frozen for a moment.

Then I slowly slide off the bed and gather my clothes.

The silence is a pit, and I can’t climb out of it.