Eyes Don't Lie | Charles Leclerc

Part 50 | Video Games

July 14, 2023

Nearly two weeks had passed since that horrible night in the warehouse, and Aria had slowly begun to regain pieces of herself. The first few days were the hardest, filled with nightmares and the kind of exhaustion that only comes from carrying too much pain. But she'd been healing, little by little, and I had done everything in my power to help her feel safe, to remind her that she wasn't alone, while trying to keep my own trauma at bay.

The morning after the chaos with Tony and William, we went back to her apartment to start packing things up. I could see how difficult it was for her, looking around a place that had once felt like her sanctuary, now filled with shadows of fear and trauma. But we worked together, boxing up memories and the remnants of her old life.

As we packed, we hardly spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable...it was heavy, but it was shared, as if words might break whatever balance we'd found. That's why, the next morning, over a quiet breakfast at my place, I decided it was time to speak my heart, again.

I watched her from across the small dining table, really just looked at her. She still looked a little tired, but there was a hint of the old Aria in the way she pushed her hair back behind her ear, the slight curve of a smile forming as she sipped her coffee. And I knew then, I couldn't bear the thought of being apart from her, even for a second.

"Aria," I said softly. 

Her eyes met mine, curious and a little guarded, but she set her mug down, listening. "I know everything's been happening so fast. And I know it might seem too soon, but...I don't want to be apart from you anymore."

She tilted her head, her expression unreadable, so I pressed on, the words coming out more rushed than I intended. "Move in with me. I know it's a lot, but I can't stand the thought of you going back to that apartment alone. I want to be there for you, and I think...I think you'd want that too."

For a moment, her face softened, her lips parting in surprise. Then, slowly, a smile broke through, one that reached her eyes in a way that had been absent for far too long. Tears welled up, but this time, they weren't from sadness or fear. She reached across the table, placing her hand over mine, and nodded.

"I'd like that, Charles," she whispered, her voice cracking a little, but it was full of hope. "I'd like that a lot, I love you so much."

And just like that, in the middle of a quiet breakfast, a new chapter began, one where healing didn't have to happen alone, and where the future seemed just a little brighter.

Over the past week, I had gone to see my therapist twice, each session peeling back layers of what had happened, trying to make sense of the chaos and the weight of emotions still clinging to me. It was hard, unraveling the trauma and the fear that had gripped me since that day in the warehouse, but it helped. It made me realize that if I wanted to truly be there for Aria, I had to be in a better place myself.

I encouraged Aria to do the same, letting her know that it was okay to seek help outside of just us talking. I wanted her to know that, aside from the comfort she found in my arms, she deserved a space where she could share everything with someone who could guide her through the her emotions. At first, she was hesitant, understandably. She'd been through so much, and trusting someone new felt intimidating. But after a few days of convincing, she agreed.

We both started seeing therapists separately, taking those first difficult steps towards healing. It wasn't easy, revisiting the darkest parts of that night, the memories of William, and everything that came before and after, but I could see a shift in her. A slow, gradual change as she began to release some of the weight she had been carrying alone for so long.