Shattered Truths

Chapter 7: Luke's Secret

The days blurred into one another, but the heaviness never lifted. Matt tried to keep himself busy—answering emails, cleaning the apartment, even jogging along the rain-damp streets in the mornings—but Claire lingered in everything. Her ghost lived in the quiet. He heard her laugh in the kettle's hiss, saw her smile in the empty spot on the couch, felt her absence every time his phone buzzed with someone else's name.

If it hadn't been for Sarah and Luke, he wasn't sure he would've held himself together at all. Sarah was the anchor, steady and unflinching in her love. Luke... Luke was different. He was always around, always checking in, always ready with a beer or a joke to distract him. On some nights, that comfort felt like salvation. On others, it felt like a weight pressing on his chest.

Because lately, when Luke spoke, something inside Matt whispered that he wasn't hearing the full truth.

It was a Thursday evening when Luke came over, letting himself in with the casual ease of years of friendship. He carried two bottles of beer and a bag of takeout, the smell of fried noodles filling the apartment as he set it down on the counter.

"You've got to eat something that isn't black coffee and toast," Luke said, his grin lopsided, almost forced.

Matt managed a smile, taking the bottle Luke offered. "Guess I've been forgetting."

They settled in the living room, the glow of the streetlights spilling through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the carpet. The conversation meandered the way it always did—work, the latest football scores, the mess of politics neither of them really cared about. But as it always seemed to, it circled back to Claire.

Luke was the one to bring it up. "So," he said cautiously, "what now? Do you think you're ready to move on?"

Matt stared at the amber liquid in his bottle, swirling it slowly. The thought of moving on felt alien, almost laughable. "I don't know. Every time I think about trusting someone new, all I can see is her face. Her lying. Her kissing him. It's like... everything I thought I knew about her, about us, was fake."

"You can't let her ruin trust for you," Luke said, leaning forward. His voice was soft but urgent. "She doesn't get to take that from you too."

Matt let out a hollow chuckle. "Maybe it was my fault. I should've seen it sooner. I ignored everything—the late nights, the vague trips, the texts. I thought I was just being paranoid."

"Don't do that," Luke said quickly, his eyes flashing. "You're not the one who broke this, Matt. She is."

Something in his tone made Matt look up sharply. Luke seemed... tense, his fingers drumming against the neck of his bottle.

An uneasy silence stretched. Then Luke muttered, almost to himself, "It's not like you didn't have help figuring it out..."

Matt froze. "What do you mean?"

Luke's eyes flickered, like he'd said too much. He scratched the back of his neck, clearly debating whether to continue. Finally, he exhaled. "Look... there's something I should tell you."

Matt's stomach clenched, every instinct on high alert. "Go on."

"I've been keeping an eye on Claire for months," Luke admitted, his words tumbling out too fast. "I noticed things. I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure. I didn't want to hurt you if it was nothing."

Matt's heart thudded painfully. "You were watching her? Behind my back?"

"It wasn't like that," Luke insisted, leaning forward. His voice was earnest, desperate. "I just... I had a feeling she wasn't being honest with you. I saw things I couldn't explain. Her sneaking off at parties. Taking calls at odd hours. Meeting people she didn't mention to you. I thought if I figured it out first, I could protect you."

Matt stared at him, anger rising hot in his chest. "Protect me? Luke, I needed the truth. You let me walk around doubting myself, thinking I was crazy, while you already knew something was off. That's not protection. That's betrayal."

Luke flinched. His eyes dropped. "You're right. I should have told you. I thought I was sparing you the pain."

Matt slammed his bottle down on the table, the sound sharp in the small room. "Don't you dare dress it up like you were doing me a favor. You knew. And you said nothing."

The room buzzed with silence, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Matt's voice dropped, low and tight. "So what exactly did you see?"

Luke hesitated. Too long. "Just... the usual stuff. Flirty conversations. Calls at odd hours. Once I saw her with Aaron—before you ever suspected. But I wasn't sure what it meant."

Matt's chest tightened. "Aaron? You saw them together and didn't tell me?"

Luke's jaw worked, his eyes flickering again. "It could've been innocent. I didn't want to blow it up without proof."

Matt leaned back, staring at him, suspicion crawling up his spine. Something was off. Luke wasn't just omitting details—he was hiding them.

"You knew more than you're saying."

Luke's gaze hardened for the briefest second before softening again. "Matt, I swear—"

But Matt cut him off. "And the envelopes? The older man? Did you know about that too?"

Luke's reaction was instant. His shoulders stiffened, his eyes widening just enough for Matt to catch before he schooled his features.

"You mentioned that before," Luke said carefully. "Honestly, I think you're chasing shadows. You're hurt, you're raw. Maybe you're connecting things that aren't connected."

There it was again. The same deflection as before. The same insistence that he was imagining it.

Matt's pulse pounded. "Don't lie to me, Luke. You reacted just now. You know something."

Luke shook his head quickly, too quickly. "I don't. I just think you need to let this go before it eats you alive."

Matt leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. "Why are you so desperate for me to stop looking? What are you not telling me?"

Luke swallowed, his jaw tight. For a moment, something flickered across his face—guilt, fear, maybe something darker. Then it was gone, buried under a mask of concern.

"I'm just trying to protect you, Matt," he said again. "That's all I've ever wanted."

But Matt no longer believed him.

When Luke finally left that night, the apartment felt colder than it had before. Matt paced the living room, his thoughts tangled and sharp.

Luke had admitted to keeping secrets. He had admitted to seeing things, knowing things, and saying nothing. And worse—he'd deflected the moment the envelopes came up.

Trust. The word tasted bitter in his mouth. Sarah had told him not to blame himself for Claire's betrayal, but now he realized betrayal wasn't limited to Claire. It was sitting across from him in his own living room, wearing the face of his oldest friend.

He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. For so long, Luke had been his constant, his safe place. But now... now he wasn't sure if Luke was a friend at all, or another piece of Claire's web.

The thought made his stomach twist. Was Luke just another victim, or had he been complicit?

Matt stared at the notepad still lying on the table. The web he'd drawn—Claire at the center, Aaron on one side, the older man on another. Maybe it was time to add Luke's name, scrawled at the edge, uncertain but undeniably tied in.

The clock ticked past midnight before he finally stood, resolve replacing despair.

Claire had lied. Luke had withheld. Aaron was entangled. And the older man—the envelopes—were the key.

No more waiting for answers to come to him. He would go after them.

And if Luke was hiding something more, Matt would uncover that too.

He wasn't just facing Claire's past anymore. He was facing his own future.

And the truth, whatever it was, would not stay buried.