LENA'S POV:
I could feel Lucas’s eyes on me, searching, pleading. His presence loomed over me, a shadow of unspoken desperation.
I gently pulled my hand away, the warmth of his touch lingering like a ghost on my skin. My heart ached, torn between the man before me and the one who haunted my dreams. “I’m sorry, Lucas, I cannot be what you want.” My voice trembled, barely above a whisper, each word laced with sorrow.
The distance I tried to create was short-lived. Lucas, in a move as swift as it was desperate, reached out, his hand grazing across my legs as if trying to anchor me to him. The tears in his eyes shimmered like broken glass, each drop a silent plea that tore at my resolve. His vulnerability was a mirror of my own, reflecting the deep, painful truth that I had been trying to
