Lucians Regret Novels & Stories

Ayra burned the toast, they argued over the seasoning, and somehow, it was perfect. Later, as they sat on the floor beside the dusty fireplace—blankets wrapped around their shoulders, music playing low from Lucian’s phone—Ayra leaned into his chest and closed her eyes. “Do you ever regret it?” she asked. Lucian ran a hand through her hair. “What?” “All of it. The explosions. The lies. The power. Losing it all.” He was quiet for a long time. “No,” he said finally. “Because for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m living instead of performing.”

“He told me from the beginning—he could give me safety, security, everything I needed to survive. But not love. Never love.” A soft shift in the room made me freeze. The curtain behind the altar moved. And Lucian stepped out. His eyes caught mine. No anger. No shock. Just something... tender. Regretful. And then he said the words I didn’t know I needed to hear. “And I’ll regret saying that for the rest of my life.”

"I just... what if they regret it now? What if they're looking for you, wanting to make amends?" Lucian's eyes flashed with something dark. "Then I hope they never find me. Because if they do..." He trailed off, but his meaning was clear. "You can't mean that," I whispered, though part of me understood his anger. "Can't I?" He reached over and turned the page of the diary. "Look at this." I gasped at the image before me. It was far more detailed than the previous drawings, showing real artistic skill, but what it depicted...

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.

"I’m asking for a chance to do better, to be better… for you, for everyone." I softened my gaze slightly, but I kept a hard edge to my words. "Then be better, Raphael. Not for me, but for yourself. For your family. For this pack." He seemed to deflate at my words, the fight draining from him as he nodded slowly. "I’ll try," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. "But know that I’m sorry, Lucianne. I truly am." I looked away, the silence between us growing heavy once more. "We all have regrets," I murmured, almost to myself. "But they don’t define us… unless we let them."

“That’s usually the same thing.” She exhaled softly and finally set the bracelet down on the wooden table beside her. “I don’t understand him.” Lucas leaned back against the wall. “That’s probably because you’re trying to apply logic to regret.” Elena turned toward him. “You think this is just regret?” Lucas shrugged. “It started as regret.” “And now?” He studied her carefully before answering. “Now I think he’s scared.” “Of what?” Lucas met her gaze. “Of losing you permanently.”

His resentment was a palpable force, tangible and suffocating. My composure faltering for a moment I held his gaze with a mix of regret and defiance. "I never wanted this," I whispered, my voice filled with a tinge of remorse. "I didn't understand the true consequences of my actions. But I swear to you, Lucian, I will find a way to break this curse. I will set you free." My words hung in the air; a promise laced with determination. But to Lucian, they were hollow, mere words that offered no solace for the torment he endured. His nostrils flared as he fought to contain the fury within him.

“I assure you, that’s the last thing I want to do with you.” Visenya's eyes narrowed, a flicker of hurt crossing her face at Lucian's words. Suddenly, he understood the impact of his statement, realizing how it might have made her feel undesirable. Lucian slumped at the table, his shoulders sagging with defeat. He rested his elbows on the surface, burying his face in his hands as frustration gnawed at his insides. The weight of disappointment settled heavily upon him, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for his poorly chosen words. "I didn't mean it like that," he muttered, his voice laced with remorse.

Turning to Lucian, he said, “Think about what I said. Don’t wait until it’s too late.” Lucian held Selene in his arms, but his eyes remained locked on mine. Then, his voice rang out, steady and cold. “I won’t regret it.” He hesitated, then added, “Because I never loved Elara. There’s nothing to regret.” A sharp pain surged through my chest, stealing my breath. The words cut deeper than I’d expected. A tidal wave of grief crashed over me, suffocating, drowning. I turned and opened the car door to Milo’s car. As soon as I sat down, a violent cough racked my body, warm liquid dripped from my nose onto my trembling fingers.

“What the fuck did you just say?!” Lucian looked at his friend. Yes! He had all the right to talk to him like that, Lucian was crazy, completely crazy now. ******* At Acosta's house, with his tie, shirt and hair a mess, Adel drank and drank until he wanted to lose himself in the person he was before he had to see the vivid memory of that woman who was next to Lucian and who looked like April. No, she couldn’t be the same woman. Tears kept flowing from his eyes. He was sorry, regret had come into his life, into his heart and this time it was coming not to leave until the regret was satiated like a revenge that has been exacted.