Chapter 194

Hannah

I stood there, frozen in shock as I stared at the tiny bundle in Lily’s arms. A baby. My sister had a baby. When? How? Why was this the first I was hearing of it? Why, when I asked if I heard a baby crying the other night, had she kept it from me?

“Surprise!” Lily exclaimed, her face beaming as she hurried up to me. “Hannah, meet your niece, Olivia.”

“I... what?” I stammered, unable to form a coherent thought as I stared down at the tiny face looking up at me. “When… When did this happen?”

Lily’s smile faltered slightly. “I sent you letters,” she explained. “I’m assuming you never got them.”

I shook my head, still trying to process the information. “No, I... I never received any letters.”

“I figured as much,” Lily said. “I guess they must have gotten lost in the mail.”

“But I heard the baby crying on the phone the other night,” I said. “Why did you lie?”

My sister looked a bit sheepish. “I figured you didn’t know, so I decided to surprise you. Please don’t be mad.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course I’m not mad. But how... when?” I reached for the little bundle and pulled the fabric aside, revealing the scrunched up face of a newborn. My niece couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old. She was beautiful—she had her mother’s nose.

Lily laughed softly. “It’s a bit of a crazy story, actually. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until my water broke. The doctors called it a ‘ghost pregnancy’—my stomach stayed flat, and I even got my period throughout. But here she is, my happy little surprise. Born just three weeks ago, happy and healthy.”

I reached out tentatively, and Lily gently placed my niece in my arms. The weight of her, so small and warm, brought tears to my eyes. To think that I would soon be holding my own little one…

“She’s beautiful, Lily,” I whispered.

My sister beamed. I glanced up at her, eyeing her ring finger. Noticing my gaze, she quickly said, “The father isn’t in the picture.”

“Oh.” I looked back down at my niece, and for a moment, I considered what it would be like to raise my own little one without a father; I supposed if my sister could do it, so could I. If anything, it just made me want to tell her about my situation even more, but not yet. Later.

As I cradled my new niece, I felt a presence beside me and looked up to see Noah, his eyes fixed on the baby. He looked just as surprised as I was.

“Noah,” I said, bouncing the baby a little, “did you get any letters from my sister?”

He looked at me with genuine confusion in his eyes. “No, I didn’t. This is the first I’m hearing about it too.”

I searched his face for any sign of deception but found none. For once, I believed him. I didn’t think that he had intercepted any letters; perhaps they had just gotten lost in the mail.

“Well,” Lily said brightly, “the important thing is you’re both here now. How about we head inside? Mom and Dad are dying to see you.”

As we walked toward the house, I couldn’t take my eyes off of my new niece. Her tiny fingers wrapped around one of mine, and I felt a surge of love so strong it almost overwhelmed me. In that moment, I imagined how it would feel to hold my own child soon, and the thought almost brought tears to my eyes.

“Can I hold her?” Noah’s voice broke through my reverie.

I stiffened, instinctively tightening my grip on my niece. The thought of Noah holding her, of his hands on this innocent child, made my skin crawl.

But before I could object, Lily chirped, “Of course! Uncle Noah should get a turn too.”

Reluctantly, I passed Olivia to Noah, every muscle in my body tense as I watched him take her. But to my surprise, he cradled her with such gentleness, such care, that I found my shoulders relaxing despite myself.

“Hello there, little one,” Noah murmured, his voice softer than I had heard it in years—or maybe ever. He tapped her little nose, and she wriggled and grabbed his index finger. “Aren’t you just the most beautiful thing?”

As I watched Noah with Olivia, a traitorous thought crept into my mind. Would he hold our baby like this? With such tenderness and love? And more importantly, would I be there to see it?

The image of Noah cradling our child, of the three of us as a family, suddenly seemed so vivid, so real. And for a moment, I found it harder to imagine denying him that chance, of never letting him meet his own child.

But no. I couldn’t let myself be swayed by this momentary softness. I had to remember who Noah really was, what he had done to me. I couldn’t raise my baby in a home like that. I couldn’t…

Noah handed Olivia back to Lily, then glanced at me. He must have noticed something in my expression because he offered me a thin-lipped, tentative smile. But I quickly schooled my features and looked away, ignoring the pang in my chest as I did so.

We entered the house, and I was immediately enveloped in a warm embrace by my mother. Her silver hair, long and straight, flashed in the sunlight as she twirled with me.

“Oh, Hannah,” she said, her voice muffled by my shoulder. “It’s so good to have you home.”

“I’ve missed you, Mom,” I replied, hugging her tightly. She seemed a bit thinner than I remembered, which made me think about what Lily had told me; perhaps they were all tightening their belts in the wake of my father’s business ordeal, especially with a new addition to the family.

When we pulled apart, there were tears shining in my mother’s blue eyes. “I take it you met your niece,” she giggled.

I couldn’t help but grin—and again, I wanted to tell her that she was soon to be the grandmother of not one but two little ones, but I held that urge back for now.

My father was next, pulling me into a bear hug that lifted me off my feet—at least his strength hadn’t waned in the slightest. “There’s my girl,” he said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

As we parted, I noticed my father’s brown eyes dart to Noah, who was standing a bit apart from our family reunion. His lips seemed to press into a thin line behind his salt and pepper beard. “Noah,” he said, extending a hand. “It’s good to see you.”

Noah shook his hand firmly. “You too, sir. Thank you for having us.”

I watched their interaction closely, remembering Noah’s words about my father’s financial troubles. Noah had known about it before I even did; had my father told him?

Something about the looks they shared made me wonder if they had been in communication as of late, which was worrisome. If I was going to seek asylum here to get away from Noah, then I needed my family on my side. All of them.

“Hannah, dear,” my mother said, drawing my attention back to her, “you must be tired from your journey. Why don’t you go up to your old room and rest for a bit? We’ll have plenty of time to catch up over dinner.”

The suggestion of rest suddenly made me realize how exhausted I was. I nodded and grabbed a bag before turning on my heel.

As I turned to head upstairs, I caught sight of Noah and my father moving off to the side, their heads bent close in conversation. Noah’s words from that night a week ago echoed in my mind:

“How can you be sure that they’d be so willing to let you end a marriage with someone who could get them out of that financial hole?”

I felt a fresh wave of anger and betrayal wash over me. Even here, in my childhood home, Noah was maneuvering, using my family’s troubles to his advantage.

Bastard.