Man who is rich and emotionally detached decides to give Lexi a safe place to live because he is impressed by how strong she is. Their strange bond grows, but only until that one day when he walks into his garage out of the blue and finds something bad there. After all, Lexi wants to keep something from us. Who is she?
I used to have a huge house, fancy cars, and tons of money—way more than I could ever use in my lifetime. But deep down, I felt a big emptiness that I just couldn’t fill.
Sadly, I never got the chance to start a family because women seemed to only care about my wealth from my parents. I often thought that I should have made different choices when I turned 61.
Without thinking, I reached out and touched the steering wheel, trying to shake off the heavy feeling in my chest. That’s when I noticed a woman hunched over a trash can. She looked lost and confused.
As I slowed down the car, I wondered why I was even bothering. After all, we see people like her all the time, right? But there was something about her movements—the way her skinny arms searched through the trash with such determination—that struck a chord with me
She seemed both beautiful and strong, but it looked like she was just hanging on to life by her sheer will.
I had already stopped the car before I realized how I was behaving. I rolled down the window and watched her while the engine quietly hummed. I felt safe inside my car.
She looked up, surprised. For a moment, I worried she might run away because her eyes widened. But she didn’t. Instead, she shifted a little and wiped her hands on her old white pants.
“Do you need help?” My voice sounded strange when I asked. I usually didn’t talk to people much, and I rarely shared my problems.
“Are you offering?” She replied sharply, sounding tired, which made me think she had heard too many empty promises before.
“I’m not sure.” The words just came out before I could think. I got out of the car. “I just saw you there and… it felt like the right thing to do.”
As she crossed her arms, her gaze stayed locked on mine. She didn’t look away. “Life isn’t right.” She laughed harshly. “Especially for those who are unfaithful, like husbands who aren’t good. It seems like you don’t know much about this.”
Even though I knew she was right, I raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe not.” I felt confused, so I let out a sigh. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”
She hesitated, glancing away for a moment before looking back at me. “No.”
That word hung in the air like a cloud, telling me everything I needed to understand.
“Look, I have a garage.” It’s more like a cozy place to stay. You might want to stay where you are if you can find some stability.
I expected her to laugh and tell me to get lost. But after a quick glance at me, the tough look on her face started to soften.
“I don’t take charity,” she said, and as she explained her feelings, her voice became gentler.
I replied, “It’s not charity,” even though I wasn’t really sure what that meant. “It’s just a temporary place to stay. No strings attached.”
“Everything is fine. Just for one night,” she said. Also, Lexi.
The drive back to the house was pretty dull. She stared out the window from the passenger seat, wrapping her arms around herself like a shield against the cold.
When we arrived at the guest house that used to be a garage, it wasn’t fancy, but it was enough for someone to live in comfortably.
I showed her the small space and said, “You’re welcome to stay here.” I pointed straight ahead. “And there’s food in the fridge.”
They said to her, “I get it, and I really appreciate it.”
For the next few days, Lexi hung out in the garage, but we still got together for meals now and then. I couldn’t quite figure it out, but there was something about her that really stood out to me.
Maybe it was how she kept pushing through even when things were tough, or perhaps it was the sadness I noticed in her eyes that made me feel a bit sad too. It could also be that I wasn’t feeling as lonely as I used to.
While we were having dinner together, she began to share her feelings with him.
I used to be an artist, but not in a loud way. “Once I was an artist,” I would say. I tried my best, planning a few shows at a small venue and keeping everything nice. But somehow, everything went wrong.
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Even though her laugh didn’t seem real, she still managed to make it sound like one. “Life happened.” My husband left me for a younger woman, got her pregnant, and then abandoned me. He even kicked me out of our home. After that, my whole world crumbled.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but I didn’t really mean it.
She turned her head away. “It’s in the past.”
But I could tell it wasn’t really over for her. The deep pain was still there, just beneath the surface. I understood that feeling all too well.
As time went on, I began to look forward to our phone calls.
Lexi’s quick humor and sharp wit helped me escape the sadness that filled my empty house. It felt like the emptiness inside me was slowly shrinking.
Things stayed the same until one afternoon when I needed to find the air pump for my car tire. I walked into the garage without knocking, thinking I could just grab it and go. But what I saw made me stop for a moment.
The floor was covered with all kinds of drawings. They were all about me.
There were also some dark versions of myself. In one drawing, chains were around my neck, and in another, blood was dripping from my eyes. Both pieces were created by the same artist. On the other side of the room, one of the drawings showed me lying in a coffin.
I had a sudden attack of dizziness.You think this is how she sees me, right? When I thought about what I had done for her?
I rushed to get out of the room before she noticed me, and my heart was racing like crazy.
I can’t stop thinking about those pictures from dinner that night. Every time I looked at Lexi, those terrible images popped into my head.
It got to the point where I just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lexi,” I said quietly, my voice trembling a bit. “What were those pictures about?”
The edge of her fork clinked against her plate. “What are you talking about?”
Even though I tried to keep quiet, I blurted out, “I saw them.” “The drawings of me.” There was more than just the coffin, chains, and blood, right?
Her face went pale. “I didn’t want you to see those,” she replied, her voice shaky.
I responded coldly, “But I did.” “Is that how you see me?” “Like a monster?”
That wasn’t the whole story, though. She kept wiping her eyes and talking all mixed up. It was just pure anger. You have so much, but everything I had was taken from me. I couldn’t stop it from happening, but I could stop it from starting. It felt like I had to let it go.
“So you painted me as the bad guy?” I asked her straight out.
She nodded, even though her expression showed she felt guilty. “I’m sorry.”
I stayed in my chair, letting the distance between us grow. Deep down, I wanted to forgive her. I really wanted to understand, but I just couldn’t.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” I said, my voice shaking.
Lexi called her classmates together. “Wait, kindly.”
“No,” I said fast. “It’s over.” “You need to go now.”
The next day, I helped her pack up her stuff and then drove her to a shelter close by. I kept quiet, and she did too. When she got out of the car, I handed her two hundred dollars as a parting gift.
Even though she wasn’t sure about it, she took the money with both hands shaking.
Even though a few weeks had gone by, I still couldn’t shake off my sadness. Besides the unsettling artwork, the awful things that happened to us in the past also affected how we felt. I hadn’t seen anyone so warm and friendly in a long time.
Then, one day, a package arrived at my doorstep. It had a picture on it, but this artwork was different from the others. It wasn’t ugly or silly at all. I didn’t even realize I had it, but there was a serene image of me captured there. It was a really calming sight.
A letter with Lexi’s name and phone number was scrawled and hidden at the bottom of the package.
My finger hovered over the call button, and my heart raced like it hadn’t in years. I felt kind of silly for getting so worked up over a phone call, but deep down, I knew there was a lot more going on than I wanted to admit. Losing my cool during a phone call felt really dumb.
Trying to calm my anger, I swallowed hard and hit the “Call” button before I could back out. The phone rang three times before she finally answered.
“Hello!” Her voice sounded uncertain, like she was waiting for something important from me.
Someone let out a sigh. “Lexi.” Yep, that’s me. The picture you sent made me really happy, and it looked amazing.
“I’m glad to hear that.” I wondered if you would like it or not. It felt like I owed you something bigger than just those other pieces.
“Lexi, you don’t owe me anything.” Plus, I realized I hadn’t been fair to you either.
You had every right to be upset. Her voice sounded steadier now. “The things I painted were my way of letting go of stuff in my head; they weren’t really about you.” You were the only one I was thinking about. First, I want to apologize.
Lexi, you don’t need to apologize. Just seeing the picture made me start to forgive you right away.
Her breathing was heavy and shaky. Did you?
When I said “I did,” I truly meant it. Even though I felt like I was missing something important, it was really my fear of facing my loss that held me back. This changed how I viewed everything. “And… well, I’ve been thinking… maybe we could start fresh.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suppose we could have a chat.” Maybe all through dinner, course by course? As agreed upon.
The phrase she used was “I would appreciate that.” “I’d really like that.”
We had some meetings scheduled for a few days later. Lexi mentioned that the money I gave her helped her find a job and buy some new clothes. She was excited to move into an apartment right after she got her first paycheck.
I smiled big when I thought about having dinner with Lexi again.
