Page 27 of Glass Jawed

Lucian

I spent more than a year making them both villains in my story.

What I didn’t realize was that my reactive spiral—fueled by distorted memory and unprocessed rage—had now made me the actual villain in hers .

That’s straight out of Alan’s mouth. Well, partially. He didn’t call me a villain. He called me emotionally reactive.

And now, as the villain , I’ve lost certain privileges. Like having friends who stick around. Who respect me. Who trust me enough to rely on me.

For weeks now, I’ve been stuck in a loop—thinking, rethinking, trying to piece together the damage I caused. Some of it intentional. Some of it in an alcoholic haze. All of it unforgivable .

What doesn’t help is that the catalyst of my downfall is still... present. Not physically—not always, but in the unmarked letters I receive from Tim.

I’ve never opened them.

Didn’t want to.

So I threw them away.

I want it all to end. That chapter. That shame. The way he still lingers in the corners of my existence—uninvited, unworthy, and yet somehow always there.

That’s probably how Aarohi feels about me . Unworthy .

Liam said we’ve both been officially shut out by the No-Mercy-Sisterhood . Can’t blame them.

The website Kashvi made to publicly eviscerate Liam has now crossed over 150 views. We don’t know who those people are, but we did ask around. Isaac and Karina said they’ve seen it. And yeah, they’re well aware that the ’L’ in our names now stands for Loser . Or Low-life.

And Karina’s favorite —Lamebrain.

I didn’t even try to argue. Liam didn’t either.

We’re both just two miserable bastards holed up in my apartment, taking refuge in our shared shame.

Apparently, Layla has been stalking Liam’s place, which is why he’s crashing here. Another ’L’ ruining lives.

While Liam is actively trying to ruin Tim’s. A mess I try to stay away from.

From what I know, Liam’s been quietly making Tim’s life hell in several small, legally non-actionable ways.

His parents have financially cut him off after I told them everything last year.

He also failed to get a job post-graduation.

That failure? It started when I revoked his internship at Kepler after everything came to light.

I didn’t know the internship was mandatory for his program. But when I found out after the fact... let’s just say I didn’t feel bad.

Liam made sure the dominoes kept falling. Word got around in the local startup circuit—subtle nudges, offhand warnings, casual mentions in the right Slack communities. All it takes is a few reputation hits and whispered liabilities for a resume to start collecting dust.

He’s effectively been semi-blackballed.

So yeah. Tim is getting what he deserves.

But even knowing that doesn’t make me feel better. Not really.

Because all I can think about is Aarohi. That I don’t even matter enough to pay penance at her feet.

??????

The Zoom call is about to start.

I wipe my sweaty palms against the fabric of my shorts and exhale slowly. My stomach’s been in knots all day, and despite everything I’ve read, every Reddit thread I’ve scoured, every podcast I’ve listened to—I still don’t know what to say.

I’m about to talk to Diana Marie Graham.

The screen flickers. Then stabilizes.

She is here. Vibrant red hair pinned back in a loose knot, deep smile lines on her face, the kind of expression that holds warmth but isn’t quick to offer trust. Her brows lift slightly in surprise when she sees me.

She’d probably expected someone older. Or maybe someone slimy and overly rehearsed .

“I didn’t know if you’d show up,” she says, letting out a quiet laugh.

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” I admit, voice scratchy. “But I wasn’t sure if I had the right to.”

She studies me for a beat. “Well. You’re here.”

There’s a long pause. I wait for her to lead, but she doesn’t.

“So...” I start, then flounder. “How’s—uh—how’s Texas this time of year?”

Her lips twitch. “Lucian. You didn’t book this call to talk about the weather .”

“Right,” I sigh. “Yeah—yes.”

She shifts in her seat. “Let’s not waste time. Tell me what you did.”

I blink. “You mean—”

“To her. You said in your email you carried malicious intent. That you deceived someone. What did you do?”

My throat goes dry, but I force myself to say it.

“I approached her under false pretenses,” I begin, voice hoarse. Then I tell her everything. Every sordid detail.

“I had this idea that maybe if I made her fall for me and then left her, I’d feel... better. Get even. But now, I don’t even understand how I could’ve felt that way. It was... pathetic . Vile .”

Diana’s face doesn’t change. She just listens.

“But it didn’t stay a plan,” I continue. “It became real—fast. And I didn’t tell her the truth. We... started something. She opened up to me. I made her feel safe. I made her feel seen. She made me feel seen.”

A beat.

“Then I spiraled and made her walk in on me... with someone else.”

Diana flinches, just slightly.

“She called it rape by deception.”

A pause. Then, ice.

“Seems like it.”

The words hit like a sledgehammer.

My breath stutters. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t force her,” she says, cutting through.

“But you engineered her consent. You made her believe she was safe. Cared for. That’s what consent requires, Lucian— truth .

You created a fantasy and let her build a life around it.

That’s not seduction. That’s manipulation .

You can believe to be real with someone and still hurt them in ways that have names. ”

I don’t speak.

“What she felt wasn’t some exaggeration. You broke her reality.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“No. You’re starting to know. There’s a difference.”

I rub my face with one hand, voice cracking. “It was real to me. Eventually. But... I get what you mean. My therapist said the same thing. But I self-destructed. And...”

“And?”

My voice breaks completely. “And it hurts to have hurt her.”

“Good. It should.”

I blink.

It’s a slap. A deserved one.

She doesn’t offer comfort. Only accountability.

“I threw up after she said it to me,” I say before I even realize I’m speaking. “Like my body understood something I couldn’t accept yet. That someone like me—who knows what violation is—could still be capable of committing it.”

There’s a flicker in Diana’s eyes. The first human thing. A pause.

Then she leans forward. “So why are you here, Lucian?”

“Because I... I broke her,” I breathe. “And I want to know how not to do that ever again.”

She’s quiet for a moment.

“That’s what your therapist is for, Lucian. Not me. So... why are you here?”

Fuck. Why is this so hard?

“Did... did I ruin us for good?”

She’s scrutinizing me. I have no idea what she’s seeing because I’m just here holding my damn breath.

Because this is the first time I’ve let myself even think of this impossibility. Of hoping for something that I ruined with my own two hands. Of selfishly craving for a life with her —a life I don’t deserve.

Her eyes soften slightly. “You love her.”

It’s not a question. It’s a deduction.

“I do,” I nod and force myself to say more. “But she’s leaving. Going back to India.”

Diana sighs, her expression flickering. “I can empathize. Why would she stay in the same city as the man who... broke her—as you said?”

“I know.” I swallow hard. “But I— God —I just want to make things right.”

“Sounds impossible.”

“I know.”

Then I shake my head, a dull ache forming. “She won’t forgive me.”

“She might not,” Diana agrees. “But that’s not the point. You are hoping for forgiveness and reconciliation. She’s probably hoping for peace and resilience.”

The words sit heavy between us.

She exhales again. “She’s going home, right? So maybe it’s time you asked yourself what you’re hoping for if you were to—say... follow.”

“She wouldn’t want me to.”

“No.” She nods. “But you’d be there . Witnessing. Learning. Being in an environment she controls—not the other way around.”

I choke on the lump in my throat. “I... I don’t think I can. I think she’d hate me even more for trying.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe she’s already hated you as much as she possibly could—and the rest is... silence.”

A silence I may have to live with for the rest of my life.

“So, again, Lucian,” she asks gently now. There’s a soft smile on her face. “Why are you here?”

My jaw clenches. I nod.

The call ends after she gives me a few book recommendations, some advocacy pieces, and a direct number in case I have questions. I thank her with every fiber in my being. I didn’t expect grace, but I got a thread of it.

Now, I sit here.

Still.

Silent.

Then I open a new tab.

It’s not a plan.

But it’s... hope.

Government of India: e-Visa Application.

??????

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Liam hands me my coffee. We still come to Aarohi’s café every day—like idiots—even though she quit weeks ago. She’s probably in India by now.

And somehow, I feel it. Her absence. Like a phantom ache I can’t shake. The silence where her voice used to be. The quiet reminder that I won’t get the chance to tell her everything I’ve unpacked in therapy. Everything I wish I could say to ease even an ounce of her pain.

“Yeah. I just... I don’t know. I want to see her. Explain. Something.” I sigh and take a sip, the bitterness sharp on my tongue.

Liam’s gaze flicks to something behind me. Before he can say anything, I turn.

Of fucking course.

I don’t get a break. Not today.

“Let’s just head back,” Liam mutters, clapping a hand on my back.

I nod, jaw tight, fury simmering under fatigue. Tim. Fucking Tim. He’s like mold. Persistent and impossible to get rid of. Every time I see him lingering, it’s a punch in the gut. A reminder of what I lost. What I destroyed. Aarohi .

Until today, I had actually managed to avoid him. Mostly because I barely left my apartment. But his timing today is impeccable. And most likely engineered.

We try to walk around him, but the bastard actually reaches for me.

He misses, and Liam steps in like a shot.