Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Roommate & I: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

LUCAS… “What the fuck is wrong with Drey? Why would he embarrass us like that in the hallway? And that thing about him liking me… that has to be a joke, right? Nah. I should’ve known. He’s been acting different since the day we met… I just never thought it was like that.” Raihan set the pizza we bought from the campus mart down on the couch. The box was still warm, the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni filling the small room. “You shouldn’t dwell on it too much. I already knew he liked you. The way he looks at you during lectures, the way he talks when you’re around… it was obvious.” He paused for a second, the only sound the quiet hum of the fridge in the corner. “Yeah… I just hope he’s okay,” I said. The juice was cold against my lips, sweet and a little sticky. “I’ve always seen him as my best friend, nothing more. I never thought I’d end up with a guy, let alone have other guys confessing to me. It’s still kind of weird.” I took another bite of the pizza — hot, greasy, the

LUCAS… Mr. King arrived faster than I expected — car screeching to a stop outside the department building, door slamming before the engine had even fully cut off. He looked nothing like the composed, cutting man from the mansion. His tie was gone, his shirt wrinkled like he'd thrown it on without thinking, and his eyes, when they found mine, were rimmed red. "Where," he said, voice cracking on the single word. "Where's my son." "I don't know," I said. "That's why I called you." He raked a hand through his hair, pacing once, twice, before turning back to me like something in him had finally given out. "I knew this day would come," he muttered, almost to himself. "I knew it, and I still—" He stopped, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes. "Mr. King." I stepped closer, done being patient. "Tell me everything. Now. Before it's too late for both of them." He let out a long, shuddering breath, and when he spoke again, it didn't sound like the man who'd screamed at his staff,

LUCAS…I didn’t take a cab.Something about arriving in a vehicle felt too loud, too noticeable. So I walked the long way through the quieter streets, cutting across the back roads that led toward the industrial park. My lungs burned by the time the warehouse came into view, but I didn’t slow down.The same chain-link fence. The same cut opening. The same broken windows staring out like empty eyes.Mr. King’s car was already parked a short distance away, partially hidden behind a rusted shipping container. The driver’s side door was still open, as if he’d left in a hurry. I moved closer, staying low, heart slamming so hard I could hear it in my ears.Voices carried from inside.I slipped through the side entrance the same way we had earlier and pressed myself against the cold wall, listening.Mr. King’s voice came first — controlled, but strained.“I brought what you asked for. The box is here. Now let my son go.”Victor’s reply was calm, almost lazy.“Show it to me first.”There was

LUCAS I dialed with shaking hands.The operator’s voice came through, calm and distant, asking for the emergency. I gave them the location of the warehouse, told them there were gunshot wounds, hostages, armed men. My voice sounded strange in my own ears — flat, almost detached — like someone else was speaking through me.When I hung up, the warehouse felt unnaturally quiet.Daniel was on the ground, clutching his bleeding thigh, breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts. The cold confidence he had worn all night was cracked now, replaced by pain and fury. Victor remained on the concrete where Mr. King had ordered him, hands visible, eyes calculating but still.Raihan stood beside me. Up close I could see the full damage — the cut on his cheek, the raw marks around his wrists, the exhaustion in his eyes. Without thinking, I reached for him. He let me. His forehead dropped against mine for a brief second, both of us just breathing.“You shouldn’t have come,” he whispered.“I wasn’t g

LUCAS..For a long time I didn’t speak.The things Mr. King had just told me sat in the room like a third presence — heavy, immovable, rewriting every memory I had of my own life. My father had a twin. That twin had arranged his death. The man sitting across from me had believed I died on that same bridge. And for weeks I had walked through his house, slept under his roof, eaten at his table, while he recognized my father’s eyes and said nothing.Raihan’s hand stayed around mine. He didn’t rush me. Neither did his father.Finally I found my voice.“The letter,” I said. “You said my father wrote me a letter.”Mr. King nodded once. “Yes. It’s still in the cabinet at the house, with the rest of his things. As soon as they discharge us, I’ll take you there myself.”“I want to read it alone first.”“Of course.”Another silence stretched. My ribs ached. My jaw throbbed where Daniel’s fist had landed. None of it compared to the pressure behind my eyes.“You really thought I was dead all thes