The billionaire's sweet editor
Chapter 118: Lucas: Comforting her

Chapter 118: Lucas: Comforting her

As I stand outside Iris’s house, my heart races. The sight of her distress sends a jolt of panic through me. Without thinking, I take off after her.

This is our third lap around her street now. If she had told me she could run so fast, I’d have done my best to increase my speed by exercising more. I don’t even know why we’re running, but I follow after her anyway because I need to see if she is okay.

Fuck our argument. I don’t want to see her cry. That’s the last sight I need of her before I sleep tonight, she needs to at least smile because of me, or else I won’t be able to relax, or better yet, sleep.

"Iris!" I shout, my voice echoing in the quiet street. "Wait!"

She doesn’t stop. Her footsteps pounded against the pavement, the sound mingling with the frantic beating of my heart. I push myself to run faster, determination propelling me forward. I don’t know what’s happening inside her head, but I can’t let her disappear into the night.

As I round the corner, I finally catch up to her. I reach out and gently grab her arm, pulling her to a halt. "Iris, please!" I say, breathless. "Just talk to me!"

She turns to face me, her expression a portrait of anguish. Tears glisten in her eyes, and I feel my heart twist at the sight. "I can’t, Lucas," she sobs, her voice trembling. "I just can’t do this right now!"

"I know you’re hurting," I say softly, searching her eyes for any sign of clarity. "But running away won’t help. Let’s talk about it."

"I don’t want to talk!" she cries, burying her face in her hands. The sound of her sobs shatters my heart, and I feel a deep urge to comfort her, to soothe her pain.

"Okay, okay," I say, my voice gentle and reassuring. "Let’s not talk if you don’t want to. Just let me help you."

I step closer, wrapping my arms around her. She stiffens at first, but then melts into me, her body shaking with each sob. I hold her tightly, hoping my presence can offer some semblance of comfort.

"Come on," I whisper, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. "Let’s get you away from here for a bit. I’ll take you to my place."

She hesitates, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "I don’t want to be alone," she admits, the vulnerability in her voice cutting through me.

"Then let’s go," I say, leading her toward my car parked at the curb. I open the passenger door for her, and she climbs in, her movements slow and heavy.

As I slide into the driver’s seat, I glance over at her. The sorrow etched on her face is heart-wrenching. "I can’t believe he’s back," she murmurs, staring out the window as we pull away from her house.

"I know it’s a lot to process. But you don’t have to face this alone," I remind her, keeping my voice steady as I navigate the familiar streets.

"Why did my mom bring him back into my life?" she asks, her voice thick with emotion. "How could she think that was a good idea?"

"I don’t know," I admit, my heart aching for her. "But I’m here for you, Iris. Whatever you need to do to work through this, I’m with you."

She turns to look at me, her eyes searching mine. "You really mean that?"

"Absolutely," I reply, sincerity filling my voice. "You’re important to me, and I want to help you however I can. Just tell me what you need."

She nods slowly, taking a deep breath as if trying to gather her thoughts. "I just feel so lost," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "All these memories are flooding back, and I don’t know how to deal with them."

"We’ll figure it out together," I promise, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "You’re stronger than you realize, Iris. You’ve already faced so much."

As we drive, I can see her beginning to relax slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. The familiar streets of our neighborhood seem to soothe her, and I feel a sliver of hope that maybe I can help her find her way back.

I don’t know what happened inside that house but one thing is certain, her dad is back, and from the looks of it, her mom too. Two people who gave her a shitty past are now seeking a way to weave themselves back into her life.

From the looks of it, her grandparents are probably not home. I know they would have chased after her the moment she barged out of the house making a run for it. With that in mind, I decided to send them a message to inform them about Iris’s whereabouts and the sudden visit she had from her parents.

When we arrive at my house, I park the car and turn to her. "Do you want to talk now, or would you rather just sit for a bit?"

"I think I just need to breathe for a moment," she replies, her voice still shaky but more composed.

"Let’s take our time," I say, opening my door and stepping out. I walk around to her side and open the door, offering my hand to help her out. She takes it, and I feel a warmth spread through me at the contact.

Inside, the house feels more comforting and familiar than it has been for the past few days. I can’t believe in happy over Iris coming over even when I know it’s only because she wants to be away from home and not to fix our relationship just yet. I lead her to the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp creates a cozy atmosphere. "Make yourself at home," I say, motioning toward the couch.

As I go to the kitchen, I can hear her shifting on the couch, the sound of her breathing steady. I fill a glass with water and drink it, my mind racing with thoughts of how to help her. When I return, I find her staring off into space, lost in her thoughts.

I sit down beside her, giving her space but remaining close enough to offer comfort. "Iris, I know this is overwhelming," I begin, choosing my words carefully. "But you don’t have to hide from your feelings. It’s okay to be upset."

She looks at me, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and fear. "I don’t even know where to start. Everything feels so jumbled in my mind."

"Maybe we could start with what you remember," I suggest gently. "What comes to mind when you think about Sam?"

Her expression tightens, and she takes a deep breath. "Shit. He was supposed to be a protector, but instead, he became a source of fear."

I nod, allowing her to speak freely. "That makes sense," I say softly. "It’s natural to feel conflicted when someone from your past resurfaces, especially someone who caused you pain."

"I thought I had moved on," she continues, her voice breaking. "But now it feels like it’s all crashing down on me again."

"You’re not alone in this," I remind her, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. "I’m here, and I want to help you find a way to work through it."

She looks down at our hands, her expression softening slightly. "I don’t want to be a burden," she says quietly.

"You’re not a burden," I reply firmly. "You’re my girlfriend, and I care about you. It’s okay to lean on someone else sometimes."

She meets my gaze, and for the first time since our fight, I see a flicker of hope in her eyes. It calms my aching heart to see her react like that. "I just don’t want to feel weak."

"Reaching out for support isn’t weakness; it’s bravery," I say. "You’ve already faced so much, and it takes courage to confront your past."

She takes a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. "Maybe I can try to be brave," she says softly, a hint of determination creeping into her voice.

"That’s all I ask," I say, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "We can take it one step at a time. You don’t have to have all the answers right now."

As we sit together in the dim light, I feel a sense of connection growing between us. I don’t know what the future holds, but I am determined to help Iris navigate the shadows of her past.

"I’m really glad you came after me," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Always," I reply, my heart swelling. "No matter what, I’ll always be here for you."

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of our shared understanding hanging in the air. I know it won’t be easy, but together, we can face whatever comes next. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to talk about our relationship and restart from where we left off, picking the pieces until we reach the end goal: happiness.