Chapter 187

Hannah & Noah

Hannah’s POV

The next few days passed in a blur of awkward silences and forced interactions. Noah showed up every day, like clockwork, for our two-hour ‘bonding’ sessions, seemingly unfazed about missing work.

I couldn’t decide if I liked it or hated it. On one hand, it was nice to have some company and to see him making an effort. On the other, it felt like a constant reminder of my trapped situation. Despite my last outburst, he still seemed convinced that he could force me to stay married to him, or maybe change my mind.

Well, it wasn’t happening. I just needed some time to think and plan, and then I would get the hell out of here. I had been telling the truth that night after the nursery store; I had no intentions of staying with him.

Still, during these sessions, Noah tried various activities to engage me as if that would somehow help.

One day, as I was hiding in my room in the hopes that he would leave me be, he burst into the room with a box in his hand and tossed it on the floor next to the bed.

“I thought we could work on this together,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Slipping down from my bed, I eyed the box warily and picked it up, turning it over in my hands. “A… puzzle? Really?”

He shrugged. “Why not? It might be... fun.”

I snorted but sat down anyway, knowing that he wouldn’t leave until the puzzle was finished—so it was easier and faster if we both worked on it.

Still, as we sorted through the pieces, I couldn’t help but notice how careful he was not to touch my hand, how he seemed to be walking on eggshells around me. Good, I thought, suppressing a sneer. Keep your distance.

I tried to pretend that the moments our hands almost touched but didn’t weren’t actually incredibly painful to me.

Another day, he suggested we cook dinner together. The kitchen felt too small with both of us in it, and I was hyper-aware of his presence as we chopped vegetables side by side.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, not looking up from his work. “Any improvements with the morning sickness?”

I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“That’s… good,” he said, and I swore I could hear the relief in his voice.

These moments of apparent concern only confused me more. Was this the real Noah, or just another act? I was leaning toward the latter; he only ‘cared’ about the morning sickness because it impacted the health of the baby.

Nothing more.

To him, I was just a prisoner, a broodmare carrying his heir. Not his wife. Not his mate.

One evening, I finally managed to escape for dinner with Viona. We met at our usual haunt, where we ordered too much food and settled into a corner booth. For the first time all week, I finally got out of my two-hour session with Noah—only because I lied and told him that Viona had a personal emergency.

“I just can’t stand it,” I said, stabbing a little too forcefully at my salad. “He’s there every single day, trying to act like everything’s normal. Like he didn’t lock me in a room and threaten to keep me prisoner.”

Viona sighed, putting down her fork. “Hannah, don’t you think you should give Noah a chance? He seems to be really trying.”

My mouth dropped as I stared at her. “Give him a chance? After everything he’s done? You’re joking, right?”

“Look,” Viona said, sighing deeply. “There’s… something I need to tell you. Noah came to see me when all of this happened. He seemed... so heartbroken. I feel like he does genuinely want to make things right.”

I felt like I had been slapped. My fork fell back to my plate with a clatter. “He came to see you?” I breathed.

She nodded. “When you were locked in your room. He came to me and asked about the pregnancy.”

“What? When were you going to tell me this?”

Viona had the decency to look ashamed. “Look, I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. But Hannah, you should have seen him. He was so worried about you, about the baby.”

For a moment, it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. I had an inkling that Noah had gotten information from someone close to me, but Viona…

“What did you tell him?” I whispered.

She swallowed hard. “Everything. Excluding the rebirth.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I breathed. “You were supposed to be the one person I could trust not to spill everything.”

“He used his Alpha powers on me,” Viona admitted quietly. “I couldn’t resist. I had to tell him.”

Despite a part of myself wondering if I was being too harsh, I had to get out—to breathe, if nothing else. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything, Viona.” I stood, grabbing my bag. “You promised you’d side with me if it came to that. And now—”

“Hannah, wait—” Viona reached out, grabbing my wrist. “Please, just listen. He’s trying to change. He wants to be better for you and the baby.”

I yanked my arm away. “You don’t know anything about him. Telling him about the pregnancy is one thing, but… I can’t believe you’re taking his side.”

“Hannah—”

Shaking my head, I threw a wad of cash on the table to pay for my meal. “We’ll talk later. I have to go.”

As I stormed out of the restaurant, I could hear Viona calling after me, but I didn’t look back. I needed to get away, to breathe, to think. The cool night air hit my face as I burst out onto the street, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

When I finally made it home, the house felt emptier than ever. I climbed the stairs to my room, each step feeling heavier than the last. As I changed into my pajamas, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red-rimmed, my face pale. I looked as tired as I felt.

And I felt so, so alone.

…

Noah’s POV

The house was dark as Noah walked down the hallway, heading to his bedroom after a long day of meetings and business deals.

But despite all of this, his mind was preoccupied solely with thoughts of Hannah—and their child.

He had been trying so hard to make things right, but it felt like every step forward was followed by two steps back. Hannah hated him, and she wasn’t any closer to forgiving him after everything.

How could he show her that he really wanted to change? That he not only wanted to work on their marriage for their child’s sake, but also on himself?

Noah was beginning to think that there was no convincing her. His mind kept wandering back to the day they had gone to the nursery store, when she had blatantly told him that she had no intentions of staying married to him.

A prisoner, she kept calling herself.

If he forced her to stay in this marriage, was that how she would always feel? Would she always feel like he was her jail warden, even if he bent over backwards to make things right?

As he passed by Hannah’s room, a sound made him pause.

Soft, muffled sobs were coming from behind the closed door. His heart clenched, recognizing the sound immediately. He hated hearing Hannah cry, hated knowing that he was at least partly responsible for her pain.

He raised his hand, about to knock, but then a floorboard creaked under his foot. The crying suddenly stopped.

Noah heard a rush of movement, followed by the distinct click of a lock. Hannah had locked her door—locked him out in more ways than one.

Sighing, Noah lowered his hand.