Chapter 197

Hannah

Noah’s warm hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he held my hair, his voice soft and soothing.

“I’m here for you, Hannah. Just let it out.”

His tone was more tender than I had ever heard it, a contrast to the cold, calculated demeanor he usually wore. The touch of his hand, the reassurance in his voice—it wasn’t at all like the Noah I had come to know over the years.

But it was exactly what I needed.

When the wave of nausea finally passed, I slumped against the cool bathroom wall, feeling utterly drained. The chill of the tiles against my back was a welcome distraction from the lingering queasiness roiling around in my belly.

Noah quickly wet a washcloth with cold water and gently wiped my face, crouching in front of me.

“Here,” he said, offering me a glass of water and some saltine crackers to munch on. “Small sips, okay?”

I nodded weakly, taking the water with hands that still trembled slightly. As I sipped, I couldn’t help but notice the worry etched into Noah’s green eyes.

The tenderness of his gesture was almost too much to bear. Each touch, each word seemed to chip away at the icy barrier I had built around my heart as of late. I felt myself softening toward him, even as a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered countless doubts and concerns.

But was this genuine concern that he was showing me, or was it just another tactic? The check he had given to my father, the sudden display of domesticity between my new niece and now—could it all be part of an elaborate plan to keep me in this marriage?

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice hoarse from the earlier retching.

Noah’s brow furrowed with genuine confusion. “Doing what?” he asked, stroking the cool washcloth along my forehead.

“This,” I said, gesturing vaguely to the room, to the glass in my hand, the sleeve of saltines sitting on the sink, the washcloth against my forehead. “Being such a… perfect husband. Is it just to look good in front of my parents?”

“Look good in front of your parents?” He cocked his head.

I shrugged. “Maybe you want them to convince me to stay with you. It wouldn’t be hard, if you keep acting like this around them.”

Noah sighed, sitting back on his heels and leveling me with a stern gaze. “Hannah, we’re alone right now. How can I be putting on a show for your parents when they’re not even here?”

I blinked, taking in his words. He had a point. “But… They saw you take Olivia… And then you came after me…”

“I helped Lily because she’s a new mom and the father of her child is a deadbeat and I wanted you to enjoy your family dinner. And for what it’s worth, I told your parents you just remembered an important phone call and ran off,” Noah explained. “They have no idea you’re sick, or that I’m doing this right now.”

I fell silent, unsure of how to respond to that. He continued, “And about the check… it was simply an extension of goodwill toward your father. If we’re going to divorce, I don’t want you going back to a home where finances are an issue.”

My head snapped up, the realization hitting me like a slap to the face. “What are you saying?”

Noah took a deep breath, his eyes wandering the designs on the tile floor. “I’ve decided that if you don’t want to return to Nightcrest with me, I won’t stop you. Just say the word, and I’ll go home without you. We can finalize the divorce.”

I stared at him, stunned. The shock of his offer was almost overwhelming. “You would really do that?” I breathed.

As the words left my mouth, I was surprised to feel a pang of… disappointment.

Why did I feel this way when all I had wanted lately was to escape? My heart seemed to betray me, caught between the freedom I had sought and a longing for something I thought was lost.

Noah nodded solemnly, rising to his feet. “I don’t want you to spend your life feeling like a prisoner, Hannah. I won’t force you to stay and work on our marriage. So if you really want to stay here, then stay.”

He paused, as though weighing his next words carefully. “But I do have one request. Would you consider staying with me for the duration of the pregnancy? Just so I can take care of you and ensure your health and safety. For you and for the child.”

I remained silent, although not by choice; my mouth worked uselessly, opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Noah continued, “We also need to discuss custody. I’m willing to let you have the majority of custody of our child, but I’d still like to have some part in their life. And I’d like to leave Nightcrest to them someday.”

My mind felt like it was on fire, each conflicting thought adding fuel to the flames. This was everything I had wanted, wasn’t it? Freedom, fair custody, a chance to start over without making a big deal about it.

So why did it feel so… hollow? Like a dream that was slipping through my fingers?

Noah dusted off his pants, gathering the damp washcloth and half-eaten crackers. “You don’t have to decide now,” he said. “Just… consider it, okay?”

I watched him go, a strange pang aching somewhere deep in my chest for reasons I couldn’t fully understand.

…

Later that night, after a long, hot bath, I emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed but emotionally drained.

To my surprise, I found Noah already asleep on the sofa in my room. A book lay open on his chest, his brow furrowed even in sleep.

I approached quietly, picking up a blanket from the foot of my bed. As I draped it over him, I paused for a moment to study his face. In sleep, he looked younger, more like the boy I had fallen in love with all those years ago. The lines of worry seemed softer, the harsh edges of his usual demeanor smoothed by the calm of sleep.

Sighing, I stared down at him, clutching the blanket in my hands as his chest rose and fell steadily. More than anything, I wished I knew what had happened between us, why things had gotten so… complicated.

Where had that boy gone—the one who watched the stars with me, the one whose palm was clammy against mine as we snuck into his mother’s hospital room, the one who wrote me all those letters?

Why, when I had been so elated to discover that we were getting married, had he… treated me like a stranger?

As I draped the blanket over him and made my way back to bed, I thought back to his words earlier. He was willing to let me go, to give me the freedom I had been craving.

But now that it was within my grasp, I found myself hesitating. The Noah I had come to know over the past few years—cold, distant, controlling—didn’t align with the man I had seen today.

This Noah was caring, considerate, and seemingly genuine in his desire to do right by me and our child.

I didn’t want to believe all the nice things he had said earlier. It would be easier to assume the worst, that that gentle boy had died all those years ago and that this was just a ploy to get what he wanted.

But I couldn’t help but wonder if I was mistaken.