The moment he saw me step out of the car, his body visibly tensed, even trembling slightly. Not that any of that mattered.
Before leaving home, I'd already made up my mind to draw a clear line between myself and the past.
I was determined to be as stubborn as I was when I wasted seven years foolishly devoting myself to Lucas.
He still hadn't left by the time night fell. I sat there at the table, eating noodles and stealing a few glances outside the window. Under the dim yellow glow of the streetlights, he looked particularly lonely.
"Who's that? Are we being haunted by a vengeful ghost or something?"
Charles walked in dressed in light-colored linen loungewear. Holding a mug of coffee in one hand and resting the other in his pocket, he looked like he was striking a pose for a magazine.
"Lucas." I muttered, worried that he might call the police and make a scene.
He let out an exaggerated, drawn-out "Ohhhh", clearly having heard of him before.
"So that's the idiot from the
