82 A Little Resentment 2
Mara
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82 A Little Resentment 2
+8 Points
Thirty minutes later, I found myself outside Tina’s hospital room, standing quietly by the window. I didn’t step in. I
couldn’t.
Lucian was by her side, holding her hand. The doctor was bent over her, speaking in low tones I couldn’t hear. Austin stood silently in the corner. There was a tray filled with used cotton balls and stained gauze-too much of it. I wasn’t sure if all the blood came from Tina, but I didn’t care enough to find out.
I had seen enough.
I turned to leave-just as Lucian looked up and saw me. He dropped her hand instantly, like it burned him. But it was too
late. I had already seen it.
I smiled and nodded, pretending it didn’t matter.
Because what was the point in getting angry? This was reality now. We were bound together-and Tina was part of that bond. A permanent, painful fixture.
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32 A Little Resentment 2
I looked at him, eyes tired, voice low.
Forget the house.”
And then I turned my face to the window, watching the world blur again-not from speed, but from tears.
“Mara…” he said trying to fix it with words.
“Let’s stop lying to ourselves, Lucian,” I said quietly, staring straight ahead. “Tina’s going to keep doing things-things that will make you drop everything and run to her. And I’ll be left alone. Again.”
He cut in quickly, desperate. “My father promised to handle it.”
1 let out a bitter laugh, short and humorless. “This is too much, Lucian.”
“I know,” he said, voice cracking. “Please… please help me, Mara. I need your support. I can’t do this without you.”
I turned and looked at him then-really looked. His eyes were glassy, full of pain. But I didn’t have comfort to give. Not right now.
“Who’s going to help me, Lucian?” I asked. “Who supports me while I’m slowly losing my mind? You think this is just about jealousy? This is trauma. Every time I close my eyes, she’s there. That woman is a permanent reminder of the one thing I didn’t get to control-my own beginning with you.”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
And the truth was ugly.
Tina and Martha had already taken more from me than I could put into words. They’d chipped at my joy, stripped me of peace, and now stood like phantoms in every corner of our lives.
As selfish as it sounded-I didn’t care if she lost the baby. Part of me wanted her to. Because maybe then we could finally breathe.
Lucian didn’t speak. He just climbed into the driver’s seat, broken silence settling between us. He drove fast, like he needed the speed to outrun the pain.
Eventually, we turned down a quiet street lined with small, humble bungalows-homes with chipped paint and flower pots on the porches. One of them looked exactly like my parents’ house.
He parked, stepped out, and came around to open my door. “Come with me,” he said.
I didn’t want to fight. Not here. So I followed him.
He took my hand and led me to the front of the house. “This is us, Mara,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “You and me. Tina will never be here. She doesn’t belong in this space. This-” he gestured around us “-this is ours.”
I looked at the house. The porch. The familiar simplicity. A flicker of warmth tried to stir inside me, but it was buried under too much weight.
Lucian turned to me, gripping my hands. “Please, Mara. I am so sorry for what I’ve done to us. I hate myself for letting it happen. But I need your help to move forward. I need you to help me get past this mistake… because it’s killing me.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and for a second, I saw him as he truly was-frayed, desperate, scared of losing what we’d built.
But my pain didn’t vanish. It just stood beside his.
And now, we had to decide if we were strong enough to carry both.
