You Might Be The One (A Fan Fiction) - Luke Hemmings

Chapter 20• The Old Me

Leyla's POV

The adrenaline from the confrontation with Michael slowly drained away, leaving a strange, shaky energy in its wake. I still held the half-eaten pretzel, the lump in my throat too big to swallow. Michael's face, cold and disappointed, was burned into my mind. I didn't know him, not really, but I knew the look on his face. It was the face of someone who felt entitled, someone who believed he owned a part of me.

Luke's hand gently took the pretzel from mine and placed it on the side of the food stall. "Hey," he said, his voice quiet. "Let's get out of here."

He led me away from the crowded market, his presence a steady anchor in the sudden chaos. We walked in silence until we found a quiet, tree-lined street that led to a small, hidden park. The air was cleaner here, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

We sat on a bench, facing a small pond where ducks floated lazily. I finally felt my shoulders relax.

"What was that about?" I asked, looking at Luke. The question was a demand for more than just an explanation of the scene. It was a plea for clarity about the mess I'd inherited.

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Leyla. I haven't seen Michael since... since your accident. He was really protective of you. He always thought he knew what was best for you."

"He acted like he owned me," I said, the words coming out with more fire than I'd expected. "And that look... it felt familiar. When I was at the marriage booth with Robin, I felt like someone was watching me, and it felt like my skin was on fire. That was him, wasn't it?"

Luke nodded slowly. "Yeah. He was there. He was furious."

"Why?" I asked, my voice rising. The frustration of not knowing was unbearable. "Why was he so angry about a stupid game?"

"Because you were kissing someone else," Luke said simply.

I felt a pang of guilt, a sense of betrayal I couldn't explain. I didn't remember the guy, I didn't remember the booth, but the words still hurt.

"And now here we are," I said, gesturing between us. "He's mad again."

Luke reached for my hand and took it, his touch gentle. "He's just scared, Leyla. He's scared of losing what he thought he had. But you're not his to have. You never were."

He paused, and his eyes met mine, a quiet challenge in their depths. "Today, you made a choice. You could have walked away with him. You could have let him have the last word. But you stood up for yourself. You stood up for us. That was a new constellation, wasn't it?"

I nodded, the triumph I had felt earlier returning in a fresh, powerful wave. It wasn't about the fight with Michael. It was about my reaction. It was about choosing to stay.

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. "You're a lot stronger than you think, Leyla. You don't need to remember everything to be yourself. You're already there."

We sat in a comfortable silence for a while longer, watching the ducks glide across the water. The past was still a ghost behind me, but for the first time, it didn't feel threatening. It felt like a memory, distant and faded, but a memory I was ready to face.

"So," I said, breaking the quiet. "What's the next story? You promised me a new one."

"It's not a story," Luke said, a playful glint in his eye. "It's just a truth I learned today."

He turned my hand over in his and gently traced the lines on my palm. "The girl I knew would have been so upset about the broken pretzel. She would have made a huge deal about it. But you just... let it go. You were more concerned about me. She wasn't gone. She was just... growing up."

~

The silence in the small park felt different now. It wasn't the kind of quiet that follows an argument, but the quiet of two people who have said everything that needed to be said. The breeze rustled the leaves, and the ducks on the pond seemed to glide in perfect harmony. I held my hand in my lap, feeling the ghost of Luke's touch. He was right. I was different. The girl who was so concerned about germs from a stranger, who was terrified of having her first kiss in a ridiculous game, had made a choice. I had stood up for myself. I had chosen.

And the girl he had known? The one who made up constellations and built ridiculous contraptions? Maybe she wasn't gone at all. Maybe she was just... me.

Luke shifted on the bench beside me, and I felt his gaze. He didn't say anything, just looked at me with that quiet, understanding look that made me feel more seen than anyone ever had. He reached out and gently took my hand, his thumb tracing a small circle on my palm. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt like the most profound thing in the world.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice low.

"About what you said," I replied, my voice a little shaky. "About me growing up. I... I think you're right. I think I was so busy looking for the person I used to be that I didn't realize I was already becoming someone new."

A soft, genuine smile spread across his face, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He didn't say "I told you so." He just squeezed my hand.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, and the question was loaded with more than just a destination. It was about moving on, about leaving this moment and everything that had come before it behind.

"Yes," I said, a little more confidently this time.

He stood, pulling me to my feet. As we walked, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, perfect piece of origami paper. He began to fold it with quick, precise movements. In seconds, he had created a sleek, elegant paper airplane. It was nothing like the crumpled drawing he had kept. This one was new, sharp, and perfect.

"You said you wanted a new story," he said, holding it out to me. "But some stories can't be told. They have to be made."

He handed me the plane. I took it, the smooth paper cool against my skin. He looked at the vast, open space of the park, a playful glint in his eye.

"You know what you have to do, right?" he challenged.

I grinned, an uninhibited, joyful smile that I felt deep in my bones. It was a new constellation, a new story, and it was all mine. I raised the paper airplane, and with a flick of my wrist, sent it soaring into the air. It flew higher and faster than I could have imagined, a bright, beautiful new beginning.