Strangers To Lovers

Chapter Thirteen.

I stumbled into the bedroom, my stomach tightening as I took in the wreckage around me. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt the weight of disbelief settling in. My bed was completely destroyed, the blankets shredded and pillows strewn across the floor in a chaotic heap. It looked as if someone had ripped through the place with a vengeance. Just this morning, my closet had been full—albeit not with much worth stealing—but now it looked as though it had been raided. I glanced at the few pieces of clothing left hanging limply, their hangers bent and twisted as though they were nothing more than garbage.

"Who steals shitty clothes from shitty shops?" I shouted out in frustration, kicking one of the pillows. It was absurd, infuriating, and somehow deeply humiliating all at once. This wasn’t just a robbery; it was an invasion of everything personal, everything intimate.

I had ignored the signs—the hoboes that lingered around the building for the past few days, the subtle feelings of unease that I had brushed off. I should have known something was wrong, and I should’ve taken action sooner. But I didn’t. I had been naïve, too trusting. The momentary thought of offering them help or showing kindness felt like a cruel joke now. I had let them stay near the building longer than I should have. My charity was repaid in the worst way possible.

Luke appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a serious expression on his face. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, arms crossed, watching me try to process the destruction.

"You should start documenting what’s missing. The police will want a full list for the report," he said, his voice steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of concern in it.

I pressed my lips together, feeling the lump rise in my throat. There wasn’t much left to document. Most of what had been stolen wasn’t worth anything in terms of material value, but the loss still stung. I wasn’t ready to face that truth yet, and I wasn’t ready to face Luke’s practical advice, either. "What’s the point? None of this was worth stealing. They didn’t even get anything valuable."

Luke’s expression softened, and he stepped further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage. "Even if it wasn’t worth much, it’s still your stuff. It’s still your home. That matters."

I bit my lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. "All they took was a blanket. It’s probably not even worth a dollar to anyone else, but... it meant something to me." My voice cracked at the end, and I cursed myself for sounding so weak in front of him.

"The sentimental things are always the hardest to lose," Luke said quietly, his gaze still fixed on the mess. "But you don’t need to cry over this. I’ll help you get things back in order."

"I’m not crying over this." The words came out harsher than I intended, and I immediately regretted snapping at him. I knew Luke didn’t deserve it. He was just trying to help, but everything felt so overwhelming. "Sorry," I muttered.

Luke didn’t react to my tone, but there was a flash of something in his eyes. Sympathy, maybe? "It’s okay. Let’s just figure this out." He moved closer, his hand brushing mine as he handed me my phone. "We should start with the police report."

I nodded numbly, feeling drained already. The thought of dealing with the police, of explaining the break-in, made my stomach churn. "They’ll be here any minute," I said softly, glancing at the door. The sound of sirens in the distance seemed to confirm that.

"Do you want me to stay?" Luke asked, his voice low. "I can deal with the police, if you want."

I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. "No, I’ve got this. You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine."

Luke hesitated, his brow furrowed in concern. "Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone after this."

"I’m sure," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "I can handle it."

A heavy silence hung between us, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t argue either. "Alright," he said finally. "But if you need anything, I’m just a call away."

Before I could respond, the doorbell rang, and the sound startled me. The police had arrived. I quickly composed myself, straightening my posture as I moved toward the door.

Luke caught my arm gently before I could leave the room. "Ella," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Don’t downplay what happened here. They took something from you, and that’s not okay. It’s alright to feel upset about it."

I looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. His words, his presence—it was grounding, even though I felt like everything around me was spiraling out of control. "Thank you," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

He gave a small nod and let go of my arm, stepping aside so I could go answer the door. The police officers entered, their presence making the situation feel even more real. I felt the knot in my chest tighten as I led them through the apartment, explaining what had happened. Luke stayed nearby, watching quietly but not interfering.

After what felt like hours, the police finally left, promising to follow up after filing their report. I closed the door behind them, feeling utterly exhausted. My home was still in shambles, and the thought of cleaning up was overwhelming.

Luke stood near the kitchen, his arms crossed, watching me carefully. "You don’t have to stay here tonight," he said quietly, his tone gentle. "Come back to my place. You shouldn’t be alone."

I hesitated, torn between the instinct to refuse and the realization that maybe he was right. The thought of staying here, in this mess, alone, was too much to bear. "Okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Luke nodded, relief washing over his features. "Grab whatever you need, and we’ll go."

As I walked through the apartment, gathering a few belongings, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of gratitude. Despite everything, Luke had been there for me. He wasn’t the most expressive person, but his presence tonight had been a lifeline. And though I still didn’t fully understand what was going on between us, I was grateful for him.

We left the apartment in silence, and as we drove to Luke’s place, I stared out the window, lost in thought. The exhaustion, the emotions, everything felt like it was crashing down on me all at once. But Luke was there, steady and quiet, offering a silent kind of support that I hadn’t realized I needed.

When we finally arrived, he led me inside, the dim light of his apartment casting shadows across the room. "You can take the bed," he said, his voice a little awkward, as if he wasn’t used to offering comfort. "I’ll sleep on the couch."

"Are you sure?" I asked, feeling guilty for intruding on his space.

Luke waved me off. "It’s fine. Just... get some rest. You’ve had a rough night."

I nodded, too tired to argue. As I lay down in his bed, the weight of the day finally caught up to me. My eyes closed, and despite everything, I felt a sense of peace knowing Luke was just in the next room.