Chapter 184

Hannah

“Hannah, are you sure about this?” Noah whispered. “What if we get caught?”

I turned to him, placing one finger over my lips. Glancing over both shoulders to make sure no one was looking, I carefully pulled the side door open, taking care to not make a sound as we slipped inside the hospital.

Noah hesitated at the threshold, looking uncertain. But I didn’t give him a chance to turn back, to run away and claim that this was a bad idea. With my eyes flashing, I grabbed his hand and yanked him in after me.

I remembered how clammy his hand was, how cold and sweaty his palm felt against mine. But I never released my grip on him.

We slipped past the security guards, our hearts pounding in unison. I led Noah through a maze of dark corridors, relying on the signs lining the walls to find the intensive care unit.

Finally, we reached his mother’s room. Noah took a deep breath, pausing outside the door.

“Here it is,” I whispered, finally releasing his hand.

He hesitated again, but I could see his green eyes flicker with something in the dim light—something gentle and… grateful as he looked at me.

Then, without a word, Noah stepped into the room.

I waited outside, fidgeting nervously, straining my ears for any sign of approaching staff. Thankfully, none came. Soon, the minutes turned into ten, then fifteen, then twenty. Eventually, I lost track of how long he stayed in that room, although I never left my lookout spot.

When Noah emerged after what felt like hours, his face was filled with sadness, but there was a peace in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Neither of us spoke as we slipped back out of the hospital. It wasn’t until we were safely outside, in the parking lot lit by amber street lamps, that I turned to him.

“How is she?”

Noah swallowed hard. “Not good. But... I’m glad I got to see her. To say... to say goodbye.”

Suddenly, it was two weeks later and we were saying goodbye at the end of that summer. I was returning to Silvermoon for school, and I knew I wouldn’t see Noah for a long time. We stood at the bus stop, the late summer sun casting long shadows around us.

“I’ll write to you,” Noah promised, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Every week.”

I threw my arms around him. He stiffened, tensing beneath my touch, before hugging me back.

“Every week,” I replied.

As I waved to him through the bus window, I took it upon myself to memorize every detail of his face. It was only once the bus pulled out of Nightcrest territory that I finally realized with a start that I had fallen in love with this boy I had only known for a summer.

I woke up with a bitter taste in my mouth and an ache in my chest. The morning sun was splintering through my curtains, the birds chirping outside. Groaning, I tugged the blankets up to my chin. I wanted to go back to that dream. Back to a memory of a time when life was gentler.

As I laid there, fuming, those memories—once so sweet—now felt like a cruel joke. Noah and I had been secret penpals for two years after that summer, writing countless letters to one another. It had been a while since I had looked at them.

Swallowing, I climbed out of bed and went to the closet.

There, on the topmost shelf, tucked into a corner, was a dusty shoebox. I hadn’t looked at it in years, but I had never been able to bring myself to throw it away. Not even when I had decided that our marriage was over.

I blew the dust off the top and returned to bed, settling cross-legged on top of the rumpled blankets as I removed the lid. Inside were the letters we had exchanged, each one a painful reminder of the boy Noah used to be—sweet, gentle, open with his feelings.

The boy that fifteen-year-old me had fallen in love with.

With trembling hands, I unfolded one of the letters, the paper soft and worn from years of reading and rereading.

“Dear Hannah,” it began. “My mom passed this morning. I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me this summer. Taking me to see her in the hospital... I’ll never forget that. You gave me a chance to say goodbye, and I’ll always be grateful. I don’t know how I would have gotten through it without you.”

I bit back tears as I read on. Noah wrote about his mother’s passing, his grief palpable even through the faded ink. He poured out his heart to me in a way he never did anymore.

“Sometimes I feel so alone,” he had written. “But then I remember you, and I don’t feel quite so lost. Thank you for being my friend, Hannah. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

It took all of my power to not crumple that letter in my hands.

What happened to that boy? When did he turn into this cold, controlling Alpha who seemed to view me as nothing more than a broodmare and prisoner? The Noah who wrote these letters would never have locked me in a room, never have treated me like a possession.

But now…

Now, he likely didn’t even remember these letters. Just like he had forgotten everything else about our shared past.

Taking care to control my fury, I folded the letter neatly and returned it to the box. Part of me wanted to show these to Noah, to remind him of who we used to be. A smaller part of me wanted to toss them into the fire.

But the largest part of me wanted to save them for myself, if only to show my future child that their father wasn’t always a brute.

As I put the box away, a small smile played on my lips. At least I had managed to outsmart him with those two-hour appointments. He would be too busy at work to bother coming home, and I would have some peace.

It was a small victory, but right now, I would take whatever I could get.

Later that day, I settled into the living room with a new book, my feet propped up on the coffee table. Finally, some alone time without Noah hovering over me. The house was quiet, peaceful in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

I had just gotten through the first chapter when the front door burst open. Noah strode in, looking slightly out of breath, his tie loosened and his jacket slung over his arm.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, hanging his jacket on the coat rack.

I stared at him, so dumbfounded that my book slipped from my fingers. “I thought you were at work.”

Noah’s eyes met mine, a knowing look passing between us. Clearly he knew that I had intentionally scheduled our time during his work hours, but here he was anyway.

“I left early,” he said simply. “What do you want to do for our two hours?”

I blinked, unable to process what was happening. “You... left work early? For this?”

Noah nodded, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” I said bluntly. “You’ve never canceled work for me before.”

“Well, I am now,” Noah replied. He hung his jacket on the hook and kicked his shoes off, striding over to me. I was still too stunned to move or even pick up my discarded book.

“Well?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips. “What do you want to do today?”