Page 162 of Glass Jawed
BecausethisLucian?
This is the man I will fall for soeasily. The one who sees people’s bruises and tries to soften the world around them. The one who used to break things, yes—but is now trying to build.
For me.
For otherslikeme.
God, it’s absurd how sweet it is. Absurd. And painful. And stupidly kind.
And I think I might actually cry.
“I was talking to one of the directors just now,” he says quietly. “I didn’t know they’d planned interviews to build the program. Thought I’d... ask you. Do you want to?”
His voice is so soft—so careful—that it disarms me completely. My throat tightens, and before I can stop it, my chin wobbles.
He notices instantly. Of course he does.
“Hey...” his hands reach out, settling gently on my shoulders. It’s a cautious touch.Restrained. And it frustrates the hell out of me.
Because I wantmore. I want the way he used to hold my face like I was something precious. Somethingreal.
“Oh, Rohi,” he whispers, voice laced with concern. “You don’t have to. It’s absolutely fine.Really.”
But I shake my head quickly. That’s not why I’m crying, and he’s getting it all wrong.
A tear slips down my cheek.
Wipe it, asshole!
And it’s like hehearsit—like the command was loud and clear in the silence between us—because the next second, his hands lift to cradle my face. Gently. His thumb brushes under my eye.
“Then why are you crying?” he asks, voice low. “Did... did I shock you too much?”
He gives me this cocky little smile and I roll my eyes, exasperated despite the tears.
He chuckles, the sound warm in his chest. And I swear I almost dissolve into a puddle again—right there on the damn bench—because this man, this moment, feels like something I’ve missed for months... even when I had it.
“I’ll do the... interview thing,” I finally say. “I want to.”
He nods, his smile soft but unwavering, hands still cradling my face like he’s afraid to let go.
I try not to move—don’t want to break whatever this moment is. But the second I shift even slightly, Lucian pulls back. Like he suddenly remembered he shouldn’t be touching me. Like he thinks I wouldn’twanthim to.
He clears his throat, shifting away. “When uh... when will tomorrow’s ceremony end? Will it be another late night?”
I swallow the disappointment, tuck it deep. “No, I don’t think so. It’s just theSaganceremony. And theChunnithing. Should wrap up by evening.”
“Okay,” he nods, frowning like he’s already scheduling it in his head. “So you’ll be free. I’ll email the director and CC you. If you change your mind at any point, just say so. You can cancel.Your choice, okay?”
“I want to, Lucian,” I say again, firmer now. “It sounds... important. And I think I want to be part of something like that. Even if it’s just a small part.”
He smiles and we fall into a deep silence.
It’s becoming our norm—this quiet. But this one is different. It hums with all the things left unsaid. Not jabs. Not wounds. Not regrets. But something else. Somethingsofter.
“You did this, huh?” I ask eventually, breaking the stillness.
He exhales and gives a slow, rueful nod. “I... listen. At first, I honestly didn’t remember saying those awful things. And when I did—when I realized they actually came out of my mouth—fuck, I wanted to erase that moment. But I can’t. Not for me. Not foryou.”
