Wickedly Yours

Part 36

You both sat down at the table, the silence between you heavy and laden with the tension that lingered after everything that had been said. Lucius's movements were slow and deliberate as he unpacked the containers of Chinese takeout, setting them on the table with a quiet that felt unnerving.

The air was thick, but neither of you spoke at first. You could feel his eyes on you, watching, assessing, but there was no immediate conversation, just the soft clinking of silverware and the crinkle of takeout bags.

Finally, as he began to serve himself, Lucius broke the silence, his voice calm but edged with something deeper, something probing. "Did you have any problems leaving the apartment today to go down and get the food?" he asked, not looking at you but carefully arranging his food, his tone deceptively casual. "I know you have anxiety about leaving the apartment alone now."

Your heart skipped a beat. You had hoped he wouldn't ask. You swallowed and took a moment, poking at the food on your plate before answering. "It was tough," you admitted, your voice quiet, but the weight of the truth lingered behind it. "I... I didn't want to go down at all. But I managed." You shrugged, trying to brush it off as less than it was, but the way your heart had pounded in your chest, the feeling of panic rising the moment you stepped into the elevator, still clung to you.

Lucius glanced at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp, like he was trying to assess how serious it really was. "That's what I'm worried about, Beatrix," he said, setting down his fork, his full attention now focused on you. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of frustration, like he was trying to wrap his mind around something that didn't quite fit. "It shouldn't be difficult for you to do things you used to do. Before, you never would have been upset about leaving the apartment. Now, you can barely manage it."

You felt the sting of his words, not out of cruelty but because of the truth in them. He wasn't wrong. Before, leaving the apartment wasn't a big deal. You used to move through the world so easily, and now it felt like every step was burdened with fear, with hesitation. But that wasn't something he could fully understand, not from where he stood.

"Well, I'm different now," you said, your voice tight but steady. You stabbed a piece of food with your fork, not looking at him as you spoke. "It's harder for me."

Lucius's gaze stayed on you, and when you looked up, you could see the concern deepening in his eyes. It wasn't just about your behavior anymore—it was about something bigger. His jaw tightened slightly as if he was choosing his words carefully, trying to gauge the depth of the problem. "Different how?" he asked, his tone softer, but there was no missing the underlying tension.

You shrugged, not knowing how to explain it in a way that made sense. "I don't know," you said honestly. "It just is. I can't... I don't feel like myself anymore. Everything feels harder. I don't know why."

Lucius leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. "That's exactly what worries me, Beatrix," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "This isn't just a passing thing. You've changed... and not for the better. You've become... withdrawn, anxious, like you're afraid of the world outside this apartment."

His words settled heavily between you, and though he wasn't saying it to hurt you, the truth in them stung. It was like he was putting into words the things you hadn't wanted to acknowledge about yourself, the things you had tried to push down.

"I know," you whispered, your eyes dropping to your plate. "But I can't help it. I don't know how to fix it."

Lucius's jaw clenched, and you could see the frustration building in him. Not with you, but with the situation, with the helplessness of it all. "That's why I'm starting to wonder," he began, his voice carefully measured, but there was a weight behind it that made your stomach twist. "If maybe you do need something more. Maybe your mother was right about considering inpatient treatment."