The cozy poetry lounge was filled with the gentle piano music and the warm hum of voices. Although she had been considering it all week, Hope had invited Lucas on a whim. He hadn't hesitated to say yes.
For the first time in weeks, Lucas's jaw relaxed as he sat next to her, dressed casually but sharper than usual. With her curly hair pinned up and her eyes gleaming in the low light, Hope looked stunning. As spoken-word poets revealed their souls on stage, they drank wine.
Lucas temporarily forgot the stress of home. The guilt. The quiet. The way Lorna had started to treat him as though he were a stranger.
In the interval between performances, Hope looked to him. "You've had a lot on your shoulders. It's visible in your eyes.
With a weary smile, Lucas offered. "You're really perceptive."
"I've been in your shoes," she uttered quietly. "Not knowing how to stop love from slipping through your fingers."
He took a deep swallow. "Even though we share a roof, it feels like everything is already broken."
Hope took a while to reply. She just put her hand over his, lightly. He was grounded by her gentle touch.
The words they exchanged later felt too important to ignore as they strolled to her car in the warm evening light of the city. Instead of saying goodnight, Lucas found himself leaning in. Their tentative, fleeting kiss was infused with the distinct pain of two people yearning to connect.
Lucas took a step back, breathing irregularly. "I shouldn't have—"
Hope touched his lips with a finger. "You required it."
When Lucas got home that evening, the house felt even colder. In Jason's room, Lorna was already asleep. They were separated by what seemed like an imperceptible canyon.
Feeling guilty, he sat by himself in the living room. Another woman had been kissed by him. Even worse, it hadn't felt like a betrayal to him.
Clarity was the sensation.
Something was coming to an end.
And something else had started, something unknown.