Chapter 47

Hannah

After the meal, I insisted on helping to clean up despite the director’s protests. With the way Noah had spent the better part of our visit openly mocking me, I felt I had a point to prove—both to him and to myself.

“Really, Luna Hannah, you’ve already done so much!” the director protested. “We couldn’t possibly ask our Luna to clean the kitchen.”

“Nonsense,” I said, already gathering my plate and rolling up my sleeves. “I’d love to help.”

The director, with wide eyes, fell into a series of thank-yous and compliments. As I made my way to the kitchen, Noah caught my elbow and shot me a curious look. “Cleaning, too?” he whispered, low enough so only I could hear. “What kind of an image—”

“It’s the right thing to do,” I retorted, not bothering to keep my voice low as I plastered that same smile across my face that I had been wearing all day. “You should help, too, Alpha Noah.”

With that, I pulled my arm away, leaving Noah in the dust behind me. I heard him huff slightly, but I didn’t turn to look at him.

Although, at some point, I felt him materialize at the sink beside me and begin scrubbing.

I was still scrubbing dishes alongside Noah, the director, and her staff when the first wave of nausea hit me like I had been punched in the gut. A cold sweat broke out across my brow as my stomach clenched viciously, and I barely had time to clasp a hand over my mouth before the urge to vomit became overwhelming.

“E-Excuse me,” I managed to gasp out before I scurried away to the nearest bathroom, struggling to maintain a calm demeanor.

No sooner had the door shut behind me did I drop to my knees in front of the toilet and began to retch. My body shook with the convulsions, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Well, there went lunch.

When it was finally over, I slumped back against the cool tiled wall, breathing deeply through my nose. I raked the back of my shaking hand across my forehead, trying not to gasp out loud. Goddess, I felt like an empty husk.

Suddenly, a hesitant knock sounded on the bathroom door, making me nearly jump out of my skin.

“Hannah? Are you alright in there?”

I quirked an eyebrow. I had expected to hear the director, one of the staff, or maybe even one of the children on the other side of the door. But instead, it was Noah’s voice that came through the wood.

A feeling of panic worked its way through me, but was quickly replaced by a surge of annoyance. Of course he would choose now to start giving a damn about my wellbeing. Hastily, I flushed the toilet and splashed some water on my clammy face in an effort to pull myself together before going to answer the door.

“I’m fine,” I called out as evenly as I could manage, grimacing at the raspy croak of my voice. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

I was met with a moment of silence before Noah spoke again, and he sounded skeptical. “You sure?”

Gritting my teeth, I tugged open the bathroom door to find him hovering in the hallway just outside, his mouth tugged downwards into a frown. Our gazes met and held for a long, weighted moment—and for that moment, I wanted nothing more than to tell my husband the truth.

That I was pregnant. That I had died before and so had our child, and this was my second chance. And that I needed some fucking help from my husband.

But I didn’t say any of that. How could I? Instead, I simply shook my head with a tight smile.

“I’m fine.”

Noah regarded me silently for a few more moments, his green eyes roving over my pale, clammy face. Just when I was certain he was about to demand the full truth, he simply gave a curt nod instead.

“Alright. Well, the director just told me that she set something up in the rec room. We should get the photo opportunity and then get out.”

I blinked at his words. Photo opportunity. Right; we had come here for positive press, after all. That was, ultimately, why I was doing… well, everything lately. But I wasn’t sure if I was seeing it that way anymore.

“Right.” Straightening my spine, I brushed a stray strand of hair away from my face and squared my shoulders. “Let’s go.”

The moment I stepped through the doors to the orphanage’s rec room, I was assaulted by the high-pitched shrieks and giggles of several dozen excited children all clustered around a makeshift collection of tables shoved haphazardly together.

“Look who decided to join us!” the director called out as soon as Noah and I walked into the room.

“Luna Hannah! Alpha Noah!” One little girl with wild auburn curls was practically vibrating with excitement as she beckoned us over. “We’re gonna play chutes and ladders! You gotta play with us!”

Almost against my will, my lips curved into a helpless smile at her adorably insistent invitation. Who was I to deny the wishes of children? And besides, I couldn’t remember the last time I had played a board game. I had certainly never seen Noah play one.

Noah shifted uncomfortably beside me. “I don’t know if we have the time—”

“Of course we’ll play,” I interrupted before he could finish, shooting him a warning glare over my shoulder. “Alpha Noah and I would be honored.”

Striding back over to him, I hooked my hand around his elbow and tugged insistently. “Don’t be such a sourpuss,” I chided under my breath. “All work and no play makes Noah a very dull boy.”

As expected, Noah’s jaw clenched beneath his skin. To my surprise, however, he made no move to argue or pull free of my grip as I guided him toward the cluster of tables where the kids were waiting.

We wound up at opposite ends of one of the longer tables, kids wedged in all around us as the director meticulously set up the chutes and ladders board. The second she placed the final piece, tiny hands were already rolling the dice and moving the vibrant blue and red game pieces.

Over the next couple of hours, one games into two, then three, then four. We played board game after board game, and there was no end in sight. By the time we reached that last one, I was breathless from laughter, my cheeks aching from smiling.

At one point, I happened to glance up to find Noah watching me from across the table, his expression inexplicably soft as the corners of his lips twitched upward in a hint of a rare, genuine smile. Our eyes met for a fleeting instant, and much to my utter astonishment, my pulse kicked up a notch as an unexpected flutter began to radiate outwards from my belly.

Quickly, I dropped my gaze, my cheeks heating up. It had been so long since I had witnessed an unguarded, unforced expression of anything resembling happiness from Noah—least of all directed at me.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I reached up to toy with a loose tendril of hair, chewing absently at my lower lip. When I finally dared to risk another glance toward Noah, he had already turned his attention back to the little girl next to him, his smile replaced by his usual brooding pout.

I tried to shrug off the odd fluttering sensation still lingering in my stomach. Clearly, it was just a coincidence, or maybe even just a trick of the light. Nothing more.

Noah and I were in the process of ending our marriage, after all. Any spark of tenderness that we may have once shared—if we had ever even shared such a thing—had long since fizzled out, replaced by bitterness and hatred.

Less than three months, I told myself. Less than three months.