Returning to lucian home
Olivia sat in the quiet, staring blankly at the two cold cups of coffee on the table in front of her, their surfaces untouched, their warmth long gone. She had made them early that morning one for herself, one for Lucian. She had hoped, as she’d done the past three days, that he might sit with her, just for a few moments. But, like the others, this morning had slipped through her fingers, a morning where Lucian had walked right past her, leaving her staring at the cup he hadn’t touched.
She had spent the last few days worrying about how everything had gone so wrong, replaying every interaction and regretting the distant relationship she’d allowed to grow between them. Olivia’s hands found her temples, rubbing them slowly. She felt a faint sting behind her eyes, but forced herself to swallow it back down. Crying had never been an answer, not for someone like her. She was a mother she had to be strong. But every time she thought of Lucian walking out without a backward glance, her heart wavered.
The click of footsteps broke her from her thoughts. Olivia looked up to see Rose descending the staircase, her expression as weary and sorrow-filled as Olivia’s own. She hadn’t expected Rose to look this tired, her eyes slightly red-rimmed as though she’d been crying. The sight filled Olivia with an uneasy suspicion. Did something happen between her and Lucian this morning? Olivia’s heart tensed. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that their strained relationship would take a small step toward healing. But seeing the look on Rose’s face, she wondered if she had been wrong to allow them to speak.
When Rose reached her, she stood still for a moment before her gaze flicked to Olivia’s. “Mother, can we talk?”
Olivia tried to smile, patting the couch beside her. “Of course, Rose. Come sit with me. What’s on your mind?”
Rose sat down silently, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes fixed on the cold coffee cups on the table. Her usual confidence seemed hidden under an uncertain, solemn gaze. Olivia could feel the heaviness hanging between them, and her own heart grew heavier.
“So,” Olivia started softly, “what’s happened?”
Rose didn’t answer right away. Her gaze stayed on the untouched coffee, her brows knitting slightly. She looked lost, as though she didn’t quite know where to begin.
After a pause, she gestured faintly toward the cups. “That coffee… it was for Lucian, wasn’t it?”
The question caught Olivia off guard. She blinked, then gave a small nod. “Yes, it was.”
“And I see… you didn’t drink yours either,” Rose said, a hint of sadness in her tone. Her eyes traced the abandoned cups with a focus that seemed to come from a place of pain.
“I suppose… you’re right,” Olivia murmured, feeling a pang of shame that her daughter had noticed so many small things she had tried to keep hidden.
“Mother, you don’t usually make him coffee,” Rose continued, her voice soft but certain. “And you’re not at work today. I know you don’t normally stay home.”
Olivia swallowed, feeling the weight of Rose’s words settle over her. Rose, smart and observant as always, had noticed every detail she thought she’d concealed. She felt the words gather in her throat, but the courage to speak them… that felt too distant.
Seeing her mother’s quiet struggle, Rose took a shaky breath. “Is… is everything okay with you and Lucian?”
For a moment, the two women sat in silence, the room filled only by the hum of the house around them. Olivia felt her throat tighten, the unspoken guilt and regret making it hard to find words. She stared at the coffee, feeling the old sting behind her eyes return.
Finally, Olivia looked up, her voice barely a whisper. “Do you… hate Lucian?”
The question surprised Rose, her eyes widening at the bluntness of it. She wasn’t expecting such a raw, vulnerable question from her mother.
“No. Never,” Rose stammered, feeling a tight knot form in her chest. She shook her head almost instinctively. “I… I could never feel that way.” But as the words left her mouth, she realized her voice trembled, barely holding together under the strain. Anger, shame, and a twinge of anxiety twisted inside her, each emotion layering over the next, fueled by the fear that her own mother Olivia might truly believe she was capable of hating Lucian.
Olivia paused, a quiet intensity in her gaze as she held Rose’s eyes, searching for the truth beneath the surface. “Really?” Olivia’s voice was calm, but something sharpened in her tone, something that cut through Rose’s defenses.
Rose swallowed, wanting to look away but knowing she couldn’t. To look away would only deepen Olivia’s suspicions. And no matter how confusing her relationship with Lucian had been, she knew one thing now, without a doubt: she didn’t hate him. Not after the immense ache she’d felt in losing him once before. That loss had unraveled everything inside her, leaving her with regrets she couldn’t bear to repeat.
“Hating him?” Rose whispered, the words barely audible as they left her lips. “Mother, no… I love him.” She blinked back the moisture gathering in her eyes. “But… I don’t know .”
“Then tell me, Rose,” Olivia pressed gently but firmly, her tone a blend of maternal concern and the steeliness that came with years of leadership. “Why did you come back so suddenly, without a word of warning? You didn’t even greet me, not a hello, not a word. You went straight to Lucian’s room… you left your suitcase here, didn’t stop for water or rest from your flight. You spent over three hours with him in that room. And now, you’re here asking to talk with me.”
Rose’s throat tightened. She could feel her mother’s perceptive gaze unraveling her defenses, piece by piece. Olivia wasn’t just her mother; she was the head of one of the most powerful families, a woman capable of reading between the lines, of seeing through any facade. Rose knew she couldn’t hide behind vague words. Her mother would demand the truth, the full truth, and nothing less.
“Mother…” Rose’s voice quivered as she clutched her coffee cup, desperate to ground herself. “I… I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just”
Olivia leaned forward, her expression softening but with a fierce resolve in her eyes. “Don’t play around the bushes, Rose. Tell me why are you really here and this anxious too?”
Rose hesitated, feeling the walls around her heart begin to crumble. Before she could formulate a response, Olivia’s gaze softened further, a rare look of vulnerability in her eyes. “And you’ve cried, haven’t you?” she said quietly, cutting through every last defense Rose had tried to hold up.
The words, so simple yet so piercing, shattered what little composure Rose had left. She could feel the pressure building in her chest, the weight of unshed tears pressing against her eyelids. And then, like a dam breaking, the tears spilled over, unchecked and relentless.
“Mother i i i…” Rose’s voice broke, and she couldn’t stop herself any longer. The mask she’d worn so carefully for so long finally cracked, and she buried her face against her mother’s shoulder, her arms wrapping around Olivia in a desperate embrace. “I… I don’t know what to do… I don’t know how to fix this…” Her voice was barely a whisper, her words spilling out between sobs as years of suppressed pain and guilt came rushing to the surface.
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