Chapter 335

Olivia

Nathan opened the sliding door that led to the backyard, the cool night air hitting my face like a splash of cold water.

The stars were out, twinkling overhead, and the silhouette of the old oak tree with its treehouse stood like a sentinel in the far corner of the yard. For a second, I hesitated at the threshold, half-expecting him to reveal some grand romantic gesture, roses leading to a candle-lit table or something equally cliche.

Instead, Nathan just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking back at me. “Well? Coming?”

“Where are you taking me, Nathan? Don’t tell me you’ve buried some relationship-fixing treasure in the backyard.”

He chuckled. “No, nothing like that. Just follow me.”

I stepped out onto the patio and followed him into the yard. The grass was slightly damp beneath my feet, an earthy smell rising from the ground.

Finally, he stopped near the old oak tree and turned to me. “You remember this tree, don’t you?”

“How could I forget?” I asked. “We used to play here all the time as kids. I even fell out of it once, remember?”

He nodded. “Yeah, scared the hell out of me. But do you remember that game we made up? The one with the sticks?”

Sticks? For a moment, I was baffled. Then, like a movie reel winding back, memories flooded my mind, pulling me into the past.

I was nine years old and bored out of my mind. My aunt’s house was filled with ceramic figurines and doilies, but zero entertainment for a kid.

Dad was away for the weekend, working as usual, and he had left me here because it was better than sitting alone in our empty house. I sat on the front porch, legs swinging, staring at the passing cars and wondering if I could die of boredom.

That was when I heard it—laughter and footsteps echoing down the street. I looked up just in time to see Nathan and Alvin marching down the sidewalk, sticks on their shoulders like rifles, stern expressions on their faces.

They looked hilarious and utterly serious at the same time, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you doing?” I yelled as they got closer.

Nathan looked at me, his toothless grin breaking through the stern facade. “We’re playing a new game. Wanna join?”

“What’s it called?”

He shrugged. “Don’t have a name yet. But it’s fun. Promise.”

And just like that, I was running beside them, a stick of my own slung over my shoulder, feeling the wind in my hair and the thud of my feet on the sidewalk.

The game was ridiculous, a mash-up of tag, hide-and-seek, and something entirely Nathan’s creation. There were complex rules about stick duels, imaginary grenades, and secret hideouts. We ran around the neighborhood like little warriors, diving behind bushes, climbing trees, and shouting coded signals at each other.

It made no sense. It was confusing. It was the most fun I’d had in ages. By the time we finally stopped, panting and out of breath, I felt like I’d run a marathon and won first prize.

“We need to play this every weekend,” I declared, gasping for air.

Nathan grinned at me. “Deal.”

“Remember now?” Nathan’s voice pulled me back into the present, his eyes searching mine.

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me, a small flame of hope kindled from the embers of the past. “Sticks and Grenades! I remember now,” I said, smiling. “You finally came up with a name.”

Nathan sighed, almost relieved. “Good. Because I think we could both use a little bit of that childhood wonder right now. Don't you?”

I chuckled. “What, and drawing pictures is too childish?” I asked.

But Nathan was dead serious. “I mean it, Liv. Wanna play? Like old times?”

I looked at him, at the man he had become, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the boy he had once been. The boy who had made up ridiculous games and found joy in the simplest things.

“Yeah.” I whispered, feeling the weight of the years and the struggles we’d faced lift ever so slightly.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Nathan said, gripping a stick in his hand like it was some sort of ancient weapon. “You remember the rules?”

“Do I remember the rules? Nathan, that game was like an Olympic sport of nonsense. It had more rules than Monopoly!”

He laughed. “That’s the spirit. Alright, let’s get our game faces on.”

I grabbed my own stick from the ground, feeling its rough bark under my fingers. For a moment, the absurdity of two grown adults playing a childhood game hit me, but then I looked at Nathan.

He was already in ‘game mode,’ his eyes squinted in mock concentration, his lips twisted into a battle-ready smirk.

“Ready, set, go!” he shouted, and just like that, I was nine years old again.

I took off across the yard, my heart pounding, the wind rushing past my ears. It was exhilarating and ridiculous all at once, and I loved it. Nathan was already behind the oak tree, peeking out from behind its massive trunk. I made a dash for the bushes near the fence, crouching low and trying to stifle my laughter.

“You can’t hide from me!” Nathan called out, doing his best to sound intimidating.

“Oh, you wish!” I yelled back, lunging out from my hiding spot and making a run for it. My feet pounded against the grass, the thuds echoing the rhythm of my heartbeat.

“Gotcha!” Nathan leapt from behind the oak tree, stick raised high above his head.

“Not so fast!” I dodged him skillfully, circling around and heading for the opposite end of the yard. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I rounded the corner of the garden shed.

“Ah, the old garden shed maneuver,” Nathan chuckled. “Classic Liv.”

“You know me, always full of surprises.”

We continued like this for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. Our laughter filled the air, punctuated by our huffing breaths and the occasional thwack of sticks clashing. We ran, dodged, lunged, and laughed until we were both out of breath, our faces flushed, and our eyes shining with a light that I hadn't seen in far too long.

Finally, both of us collapsed onto the grass, sprawling out under the vast night sky, the stars twinkling like a thousand tiny diamonds overhead. I was panting, my lungs straining for air, but I felt alive, more alive than I had in what felt like forever.

I turned to look at Nathan, who was lying beside me, also out of breath but grinning like an idiot.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw him—not as the man burdened by work and responsibilities, not as the fiance who had grown distant and disconnected—but as Nathan. My Nathan.

The boy who had grown into the man I’d fallen in love with. The man who, despite all of his flaws and shortcomings, still knew how to make me laugh until my sides hurt.

We lay there for a moment, just breathing, the tension and stress that had built up over the past few months seeming to dissolve into the cool night air. It felt like we’d hit the reset button, like we'd stumbled upon a secret cheat code for happiness.

And even if it was just temporary, even if tomorrow brought back the stress and the arguing and the cold silence, for that brief moment, everything was perfect.

Nathan turned to me, his eyes meeting mine, and said, “Isn’t this better than those dumb exercises?”