𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈 everyone knows who she is. Worldwide model, covered in many vogue magazines, walked catwalks, and runaway. But people don't know what happens behind the curtains. Despite the many scandals that have plagued her reputation...
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The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene as we gathered around Chloe, singing "Happy Birthday" with all the enthusiasm we could muster. Chloe beamed, her smile brighter than the candles flickering on the cake I was holding.
As she leaned in to blow out the candles, my eyes flickered to Jayden. He was watching her, his expression soft, as if Chloe had hung the moon just for him.
We all cheered as the last candle went out, and Chloe started cutting the cake, her laughter filling the air as she handed out slices. The group lounged around, laughing and talking, the atmosphere light and carefree.
But as I looked around, my gaze settled on Lucas. He was sitting with us, but his mind was clearly elsewhere, his eyes distant and unfocused.
I looked down at the cake on my plate, the cheerful scene around me suddenly feeling a little too overwhelming. I forced myself to take a bite, the sweetness almost bitter on my tongue. Healing takes time, I reminded myself.
─── ❆ ───
I found Lucas on the lower deck, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling up into the morning air. The sound of my footsteps made him pause, and without a word, he stubbed out the cigarette against the metal railing, flicking the butt into the water below.
He didn't turn around, but his shoulders were tense, and I could feel the heaviness in the air between us. I moved closer, stopping a few feet away from him, unsure of how to start.
"Lucas," I said softly, my voice almost swallowed by the sound of the waves lapping against the yacht.
He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if the rising sun held all the answers he needed. I knew he was waiting for me to speak, but I also knew he didn't want to hear what I had to say.
I took a breath, steeling myself. "Last night..."
"Don't," he interrupted, his voice low and sharp. He finally turned his head to look at me, his eyes cold and distant. "There's nothing to talk about."
I clenched my fists, fighting back the frustration building inside me. "You don't get to decide that," I countered, my tone firmer than before. "I care about you, Lucas. You can't just push me away like this."
He turned back to the horizon, his expression hardening. "I'm fine, Winter," he said, the words sounding more like a lie than a reassurance.
"No, you're not," I insisted, stepping closer until I was beside him, our shoulders nearly touching. "You're shutting me out, and I'm tired of it. You think you're protecting me, but you're not. You're just hurting both of us."
His jaw clenched, and I could see the tension in his body, the way he gripped the railing like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "You deserve better than this," he muttered, his voice rough.
