Novel & Cerita Lucian's Regret Novel & Pdf

Sometimes he dreamed of Elara, laughing in fields of wild grass, barefoot and free, before any of them had learned what it meant to bear the weight of crowns. He woke one morning and whispered to the sky, “I want to return to that. To her.” He began to write letters that he never sent. In the evenings, by firelight, he would scrawl them onto scrap parchment and fold them into the pages of a journal bound in silver bark. I still hear Lucien in my dreams. He forgave me, you know. Before the end. Did you ever regret choosing mercy? I miss the sound of your voice before you learned to lead.

His gaze stayed locked on the road, as if he needed a few seconds to organize what he was about to say. “It’s just that.” Lucian began, his voice lower, almost reluctant. “I just wanted to understand your friend, you know? I wanted to understand how she feels about me. Because, frankly…” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I'm paying for all my past sins with women at Kate’s hands.” I watched his profile closely, noticing how his hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel and how sweat began to appear on his forehead despite the air conditioning.

Sophie gave me a smile but didn’t ask questions. Few of my colleagues texted, asking if I’m okay? I ignored their messages cause none of it mattered anymore. That night, I was alone in my small apartment as usual, I placed the stolen book on my bed and opened it under the soft glow of a lamp. It’s time to rewrite my ending. The pages shimmered. Lucian appeared before me, completely free of the library’s time limits. “Did you…steal me?!” he said, he was shock. He stepped closer, touching my face as if he still couldn’t believe it. “What have you done, my love?”

I turned the pages, but the script was a cramped,ancient flowing French that I couldn't quite decipher. I turned toward Lucien. He sighed, already knowing what I wanted. He walked over and took the book from my hand, his long fingers brushing mine. “It’s filled with yearning,” he said, flipping through the pages with a solemn expression. I raised an eyebrow at him. “The text... from what I can read, it’s filled with regret and deep sorrow. Here, let me read you a piece.” He cleared his throat, his deep voice filling the quiet library:

He quickly cleared away loose stones while I spread my cloak across the driest patch of ground. Lucian lowered himself carefully, every movement stiff with pain. He leaned against the stone wall and closed his eyes for a moment. His breathing sounded uneven. When he opened them again, they found mine. There were so many things inside that single look. Regret. Relief. Love. And another apology he couldn’t seem to stop giving me. I sat beside him without speaking. He didn’t ask me to leave. He simply looked away. The silence between us felt heavier than the mountain above our heads.

His tone dropped an octave—cold, final. The woman hurried out, her heels clicking down the hallway. When the sound faded, Lucian sat on the edge of his bed and pressed a hand over his face. For the first time in years, he couldn’t make his mind go quiet. And it infuriated him. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, exhaling through clenched teeth. “Porca miseria, Aurelia…” he muttered under his breath. The name lingered like smoke. And for a man who’d built his empire on control, it was the most dangerous feeling of all.

She met his eyes. “I know that tone. Don’t do it.” “Do what?” “Attempt emotional diplomacy before breakfast.” He almost smiled. “I was only going to say that regret, when genuine, is an unpleasant thing to watch.” She looked away first. That was unfair. Because she knew Lucian’s regret was real. She simply did not know what to do with that. “He had years,” she said quietly. “Years to ask the right questions. Years to trust me. He does not get extra credit because he finally arrived at the truth after I had to survive it alone.”

I checked for something else, three books and no single plan on his present mission. Maybe I was searching for the wrong part. I walked away from his working table to the shelf, but what I saw were mostly old ancient novels and battle strategies. “Shit Lucian! Where the fuck are you. Goddess please give me a sign, I need an answer desperately, history can’t reoccur again, Lucian needs to come back home.” After checking the list of books, I finally gave up. I sat on his bed in defeat, what if Lucian never really comes back, what if he was sick and died outside the pack and I sent him to his death. What if?

Now, I felt only ice. "Take your hand off me," I said softly, "before I make you regret that, too." He didn't let go. "I made a mistake. I was wrong. Just—let's talk." I smiled. It was not a kind smile. "Talk?" I leaned in, close enough that he could smell my perfume—something expensive and foreign. "You should have thought about talking before you signed those papers, Julian. Now? I don't want your words. I want your empire."

"I just think… he might truly regret it." "He deserves it," Damian's voice was devoid of emotion. "When he publicly rejected you two years ago, did he consider your feelings?" "Now that he regrets it, why should you forgive him?" "Elena," Damian cupped my face. His kisses landed on my brow, my nose, my lips. "You are my Luna, my only one." "You don't need to worry about anyone else's feelings. As long as I'm by your side, you can do whatever you want." "Understand?"