LUCIAN POV :
I was out smoking. Couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the same scene played behind my eyelids like a cursed film I couldn't turn off — my mother's lifeless body sprawled across the cold floor, the sound of a shattered glass still ringing in my ears, and her… that woman. The one who smiled while my father kissed her on the same couch where my mother used to sit, stitching his shirts like he was worth the effort.
Even now, I could still hear the soft, broken sobs my mother used to make when she thought no one was listening. They used to echo through the house like ghosts. The sound of a woman's heart being crushed over and over again.
Maybe that's why I smoked. The burn in my lungs was the only thing that could drown out that sound.
