Lies Beneath the Cherry Tree

chapter 20

I stand by the window, staring out into the night as my gaze drifts across the street to Lyllea’s house. Her room is bathed in a soft, warm glow. I can see her silhouette through the window, her figure bent over a notebook. A small smile tugs at my lips despite the turmoil inside.

“God, I’m an idiot,” I mutter, running a hand through my damp hair. I know I should keep my distance, protect her from everything I’m involved in, but the pull towards her is stronger than my fear of the consequences. It always has been.

When Lyllea told me about her past, it felt like someone had punched me in the gut. I just sat there, taking in her words, trying to wrap my head around the pain she’d been carrying all this time. I could see it in her eyes—the hurt, the fear, the shame. And all I wanted to do was take it all away, to hold her and promise that nothing like that would ever happen again.

But instead, I just sat there, feeling helpless.

Hearing her story… it made everything inside me twist up in knots. The anger I felt toward the people who hurt her, the sadness for the girl who had to endure all of that, and the guilt that I hadn’t been there to protect her. It all hit me at once, like a tidal wave I couldn’t escape from.

I wanted to find the right words, to say something that would make her feel safe, but nothing seemed like enough. How do you even begin to comfort someone who’s been through so much? Everything I thought to say felt shallow, like it wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what she was feeling.

But when I looked at her, I knew I couldn’t let her see how messed up I felt. She didn’t need my anger, my sadness—she needed me to be strong for her, to be someone she could lean on. So, I pushed all of it down, buried it deep where she wouldn’t see it, and I just held her, hoping that my presence would be enough to let her know she wasn’t alone anymore.

It killed me to hear what she’d been through, to see the scars it left on her, both inside and out. But it also made me admire her even more. She’s been through hell and back, and yet here she is, right in front of me, still fighting, still pushing through. She’s stronger than she even realizes, and I’m in awe of her for that.

I know now more than ever that I need to be careful with her. She’s fragile in ways I hadn’t fully understood before, and I can’t afford to mess this up. I need to be there for her, to protect her, to make sure she knows that she’s not alone in this anymore.

Because I can’t stand the thought of her going through anything like that ever again.

I want to be the one who helps her heal, who makes her feel safe. I want to be the one who shows her that she’s worth so much more than the pain she’s been through. But more than anything, I want to be the one who makes her feel loved.

And that scares the hell out of me, because I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to be there for her, to make her happy, to see her smile and know that I had something to do with it.

But right now, all I can do is hold her, let her know that I’m here, and that I’m not going anywhere. Because after everything she’s been through, she deserves that much, at the very least.

Before I know it, I’m grabbing my jacket and heading downstairs. The house is silent, shadows stretching long in the dim light as I move quickly through the rooms. My thoughts race, but one thing is clear—I need to see her, even if it’s just for a few stolen moments.

I slip out the back door, moving through the yard with practiced stealth, avoiding the motion lights. My footsteps are silent on the grass as I approach Lyllea’s house, eyes locked on her window. The rain from earlier has turned into a light drizzle, but I barely notice as I find my usual path—up the side of the house, using the porch railing and the old drainpipe to reach her balcony.