Real Heiress: Flash Marriage With Boyfriend's Uncle - Chapter 152

Chapter 152: The trauma Chapter 152: The trauma Lucius lay quietly on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on Layla’s peaceful face.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm hue over her delicate features, highlighting her serenity.

He reached out, his fingers gently threading through her hair, the back of his hand grazing her cheek as if memorizing every curve.

Her slow, steady breaths brushed against his chest, grounding him in the moment.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

“I don’t want you involved in my affairs.

Lying to you makes me feel pathetic,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, laced with regret.

Layla stirred in her sleep, shifting to face away from him, her back now pressing against his chest.

Lucius followed her movement, closing the small gap between them as he nestled against her.

His lips pressed a lingering kiss to her neck before he sighed and carefully slid out from under the duvet.

After putting on his shirt, he glanced at her one last time, his expression torn, before turning off the bedside lamp and slipping out of the room.

Once inside his study, Lucius closed the door behind him.

He opened a drawer, retrieving a phone he rarely used.

He dialed a number and leaned against the desk, waiting as the call connected.

After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.

“Lucius!

It’s been a long time,” Demitri Velkazh greeted.

“It has,” Lucius replied, his voice steady, though the tension was palpable.

“What’s bothering you?

How can I help?” Demitri asked, sipping from a mug of cold coffee, his late-night ritual.

“Let’s meet tomorrow morning.

It’s complicated to explain over the phone,” Lucius suggested, his tone firm but tired.

“I don’t function in the mornings, you know that,” Demitri chuckled.

“Afternoon works better for me.” “Fine.

Just let me know what time,” Lucius agreed.

“I’ll text you after I wake up,” Demitri replied smoothly.

“See you then,” Lucius said before ending the call.

Lucius closed the drawer with a quiet thud and moved to the window.

The dark sky stretched endlessly before him, its emptiness mirroring the turmoil within him.

The absence of the moon made the night feel heavier, almost suffocating.

“Why are you here?” Layla’s voice broke the silence, soft but tinged with hurt.

Startled, Lucius turned swiftly to see her standing in the doorway.

She wore a delicate nightdress, draped with a thin robe tied loosely at her waist.

Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and though her expression was calm, her eyes burned with a fury.

“How did you wake up?” Lucius asked, masking his unease as he stepped closer to her.

She stood her ground, crossing her arms.

“You weren’t in the room,” she replied firmly.

Her gaze didn’t waver as she continued, “Lucius, what is it?

Are you not going to tell me anything?

Do I mean so little to you?” Her words struck him like a blow.

“Layla, it’s not that,” he said quickly, his voice softening.

He reached out, but she took a step back, her anger evident in the sharpness of her movements.

“Then what is it?” she pressed, her tone rising slightly.

“You’ve been distant, keeping secrets.

Do you think I can’t handle the truth?

Or is it that you don’t trust me?” Lucius sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He wanted to tell her everything but feared dragging her into the chaos of his life.

“It’s not about trust,” he began, his voice low.

“I’m trying to protect you.” “Protect me?” Layla echoed, her voice trembling.

“By shutting me out?

By making me feel like a stranger in my own marriage?” Her words sliced through him, leaving him at a loss for how to respond.

He clenched his fists at his sides, battling the urge to confess everything right then and there.

But his silence only seemed to fuel her frustration.

“You don’t have to bear everything alone, Lucius,” she said, stepping closer now, her voice softer.

“I’m your wife, not some outsider.

Let me in.

I can’t see you suffer all by yourself.” She realized she lost her temper suddenly, so she took a deep breath and lowered her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice quivering.

“I shared everything with you when I was suffering, so I expected the same from you.

I thought if you would do that, you would feel better.

I could help you.

But it seems like even I’m unable to do anything for you.

It makes me feel upset…

anxious,” she finished.

Lucius reached for her, his hands gently wrapping around hers.

Layla looked up at him, searching his eyes for an answer.

“That’s not the case,” Lucius said softly, his voice laden with regret.

“I’m sorry for not being transparent with you.” Layla’s brow furrowed as he spoke, her worry deepening.

“The truth is,” he continued, his voice faltering, “I am suffocating inside.

I used to go to therapy for this…

but I stopped a year ago.

Nothing helped.

And I admit…

after we got married, I started feeling better.

But it’s still there.

The trauma from losing my brother-it haunts me.

And I fear…

I fear that once again, people will judge me for something I didn’t do.

I never killed my brother,” Lucius said, his words catching in his throat.

His eyes glistened with the unshed tears he had kept buried for so long, and Layla felt her chest tighten.

He was broken, torn apart by guilt and grief, and yet he had kept it all to himself, carrying the weight alone.

“I regret asking him to accompany me for fishing that day.

If I hadn’t done that, Antoine would be today with us.

I did the same with my friend.

I didn’t know what he was upto and let him fight alone,” he murmured and lowered his head, not letting the tears fall from his eyes.

Without thinking, Layla wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace, holding him tightly as if trying to offer some kind of relief.

She could feel his heart beating rapidly against her, and for the first time, she realized just how much he had been holding in.

“I trust you, Lucius.

We will find the truth together,” Layla whispered while caressing his back.