From Terrorist Cell to Diamond Prison

Chapter 2

"Stop with these little stunts," Luke said, his voice icy. "They're embarrassing and only make things worse for both of us."

Rosalie walked downstairs, and the butler quickly brought out a plate of food. His expression was filled with worry, as if he were bracing for another one of her hunger strikes. Seeing the butler's anxious face, Rosalie felt a pang of guilt. She realized how foolish it had been to cling to someone who would never feel the same, dragging others into her mess.

"Don't worry," she said softly. "I'm done putting my health on the line. You won't have to worry about me like that again."

She hadn't even settled into her seat when Luke returned. His gaze immediately landed on her pale face, and a frown creased his brow. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning her with that same distant look he always wore.

"What's your game this time?" he asked coldly. "Food's on the table. If you're still refusing to eat, fine. Go to the hospital for a glucose drip."

The butler looked like he wanted to argue but stayed silent as Luke turned and headed upstairs, not sparing her a second glance. Rosalie's eyes followed him, and she couldn't help but notice that he was still wearing yesterday's clothes. His shirt was wrinkled, the collar slightly open, revealing a faint mark on his neck that made her heart twist.

She had promised herself she would let him go, stop hoping, but seeing that mark brought a sharp, aching reminder of everything she'd tried to forget.

Rosalie sat down, forcing herself to eat, but each bite tasted like cardboard. She glanced around the empty dining room, a wave of loneliness washing over her. She had always been terrified of being alone, and Luke knew that. No matter how busy he was, he had always made time to eat with her. In her memories, he was always there. But now, it wasn't just that he skipped meals with her, it felt like he didn't want to come home at all.

She continued eating quietly, her silent tears mixing with the food. She didn't know when Luke had come back downstairs, but now he was freshly changed and sitting across from her. Quickly, she lowered her head and wiped her tears away.

Luke sighed, catching her in the act. "I only said those things out of anger," he said, his voice softer now. "If you can behave yourself, I won't ignore you."

He paused, then added, "Is the food not to your taste? You're as picky as ever. Let me make you some pasta."

Without waiting for a reply, he rolled up his sleeves and headed toward the kitchen like it was second nature.

Rosalie watched him go, memories flooding her mind. She remembered how, back then, she used to sweet-talk him into cooking her favorite dishes, convincing him to make whatever she wanted despite his usual reluctance. The distinguished Luke Williams, always so refined and composed, would become a completely different person in the kitchen, just for her.

It had been so long since he'd cooked for her that she couldn't even recall the last time. Even if he could never return her feelings, his kindness over the years was something she could never repay. A part of her longed to reach out, to have a real conversation with him.

After everything that had happened, it felt like ages since they'd just talked. She remembered her early days in Florida, when she was shy and closed off. Back then, Luke would pick her up from school every day, asking about her day, what she'd learned, and whether anyone had given her a hard time. He had coaxed her out of her shell with patience, making her feel safe enough to open up about her thoughts, her dreams, everything.

Luke had been there for every important moment in her life, except for her college graduation. She'd come up with excuse after excuse, anything to avoid the painful truth that he might just not care about her anymore.

Steeling herself, she took a step toward him, but before she could speak, his phone rang.

He answered immediately, his voice urgent. "Alright, I'll be there soon. It's no problem."