All Chapters of Betrayal Between the vows : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The knock at the door was soft, but it still made Lucas jump. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting on the floor, back against the couch, knees pulled up, staring at the untouched tea that had long since gone cold. He blinked, slow, like coming out of a fog. The knock came again. He stood, rubbing the back of his neck, and opened the door. Elias. No suit. No guarded face. Just sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair a little messy like he’d been pulling at it again a habit he didn’t even remember having. Lucas stepped aside without a word. Elias walked in like he didn’t quite know where to stand. “I couldn’t sleep,” Elias said after a beat. “The silence was loud.” Lucas gave a tired smile. “Yeah. I know the feeling.” They stood there, a few feet between them. The tension wasn’t sharp tonight. It was softer, tired, almost sad. “I was thinking about that day at the lake,” Elias said, looking anywhere but at Lucas. “You had that stupid sunhat, remember?” Lucas let out a qu

The knock at the door was soft, but it still made Lucas jump. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting on the floor, back against the couch, knees pulled up, staring at the untouched tea that had long since gone cold. He blinked, slow, like coming out of a fog. The knock came again. He stood, rubbing the back of his neck, and opened the door. Elias. No suit. No guarded face. Just sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair a little messy like he’d been pulling at it again a habit he didn’t even remember having. Lucas stepped aside without a word. Elias walked in like he didn’t quite know where to stand. “I couldn’t sleep,” Elias said after a beat. “The silence was loud.” Lucas gave a tired smile. “Yeah. I know the feeling.” They stood there, a few feet between them. The tension wasn’t sharp tonight. It was softer, tired, almost sad. “I was thinking about that day at the lake,” Elias said, looking anywhere but at Lucas. “You had that stupid sunhat, remember?” Lucas let out a qu

Lucas hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the couch, but the exhaustion had finally caught up with him. his eyes, the sky outside was just beginning to brighten, soft light slipping through the cracks in the curtains. For a moment, he didn’t move. The quiet was still heavy, like the world hadn’t woken up yet. Then he heard it soft footsteps, the familiar creak of the kitchen floor. Elias. Lucas sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, heart already tight in his chest. Something about these mornings made everything feel too close. Too raw. Elias was by the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He looked like he hadn’t slept much either hair messy, eyes tired, shoulders slightly slouched. Not polished. Not perfect. Just human. “Morning,” Elias said, offering a weak smile. Lucas nodded. “Morning.” There was a pause. Not awkward. Just quiet. Elias held out a second mug. “Still take it black?” Lucas took it with a small “thanks,” their fingers brushing for a second longer t

It was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful but the kind that wrapped around your chest and made it hard to breathe. Lucas sat on the floor of the guest bedroom, knees pulled to his chest, eyes on the wall like it held some kind of answer. The room was dim, the only light coming from the hall. Elias had left the door open when he walked out, but Lucas hadn’t moved since. He didn’t even know what had been said that triggered it. Maybe it wasn’t one thing maybe it was all of it. The pretending. The tiptoeing. The ache of being near someone who used to know him like no one else ever had. He heard footsteps, slow and unsure. Elias paused in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to leave it like that,” he said, voice quiet. “I just needed a minute.” Lucas didn’t answer right away. He pulled in a slow breath. “It’s okay.” “No, it’s not,” Elias said, stepping inside. “I keep trying to act like I’ve got a grip on all of this. Like it doesn’t hurt not remembering. But it does. And I

The house had been silent for hours. Not the peace filled kind of silence, but the hollow sort that carried weight like something waiting for a sound to break it. Dust floated in narrow beams of light that leaked through the curtains, slow and deliberate in their descent. On the table sat a small wooden box, unmarked, its lid slightly ajar. It hadn’t been there yesterday. The grain of the wood seemed darker than it should be, almost wet in places, though the air was dry. A faint smell clung to it something old, metallic, and faintly sweet. The lid resisted at first, then gave way with a soft click. Inside were objects that didn’t belong together: a rusted key, a scrap of paper torn in a perfect square, a single button, and a photograph so faded it seemed almost blank. But under the right light, faint outlines emerged shapes that might have been faces, or perhaps only tricks of shadow. From somewhere deeper in the house, a floorboard creaked. It wasn’t the casual shift of se