28. Nora
CHAPTER 28
NORA
T he key clicks in the lock, and I step over the threshold into my apartment, the door shutting behind me with a thud. The space is quiet, too quiet, offering no congratulatory cheers for a job well done or comforting hugs after a hard day’s work. It’s just me, surrounded by the things I’ve collected through the years, each item a bookmark of my past.
I slip off my heels and pad across the cool hardwood floor, absently rubbing my still-flat abdomen. In a few days, I’ll start my new law job — a fresh chapter. But before that, there’s so much to organize. Find a maternal care team, plan for childcare… I’m meticulous in my career; I need to apply that same precision to motherhood.
Outside of organizing my maternity leave, I haven’t told anyone but Lynn and Oliver about the pregnancy. I need to figure out how and when I’ll break the news to my parents, but that’s something that can be put off for another week. First comes adjusting to pregnancy and getting settled at my new job.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, slicing through the silence like a siren. I hesitate before picking it up, half expecting another slew of work emails I no longer need to answer. Instead, Oliver’s name flashes on the screen, sending a flutter through my chest that’s neither joyful nor fearful. It’s… maybe both.
I’ll be at the campus library at nine tonight. Please come. I need to talk to you.
I stare at the message, reading it again as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less cryptic. The library — that place is a vault of memories, pages upon pages of shared history between us.
“Oliver,” I murmur, his name a ghost on my lips. What could he possibly want? He already established — extremely clearly — that he’ll be sending his support in the form of checks, nothing else.
So what more could there possibly be to say?
Uncertainty knots in my stomach, a counterpoint to the tiny life growing inside me. Yet something about his request feels urgent, important. Perhaps it’s the nostalgia of the location, or maybe it’s the lingering connection between us, frayed but not severed.
Can we talk? Another text comes through, almost as if he senses my indecision from miles away.
Fine , I type back, the word feeling more like a white flag than an agreement. I’ll be there.
Setting the phone down, I let out a long breath. This is it — one last conversation, face-to-face, to close the book on whatever this is — or perhaps to start a new chapter altogether. Oliver and I are no strangers to complex negotiations. This time, though, the stakes are higher than any business deal.
I make myself busy the rest of the evening, doubling up on dinner’s recipe so that I have leftovers for the next couple of days. I try my hardest to not think about mornings spent in this kitchen with Oliver, his arms around me and his lips against my neck, and just focus on the cooking instead.
It’s hard, though. Like every other little memory of him that I still have, it’s hard to let it just be. Instead, my heart breaks — again and again — each time the slightest reminder of him crosses my path.
Finally, at eight thirty, I grab my keys and head out the door. The evening air greets me with a chill, a reminder that seasons change, whether you’re ready for them or not. Oliver’s waiting, and whatever happens next, I’ll face it head-on. Just like I always do.
It’s a bit of a drive to campus, a place that I haven’t been back to in years. Parking is easy to find this late, and I cut across a lawn damp with dew.
The library looms ahead, its familiar Gothic architecture cast in soft shadows under the moon’s silvery gaze. I hesitate at the edge of the pathway as my heart does this funny skip-and-jump thing; it always does when I’m about to see Oliver. I tell myself it’s just residual adrenaline from the breakup and not enough sleep.
“Hey,” comes a voice from the darkness, and there he is, stepping into the light, his tailored suit jacket draped casually over one arm.
But it’s what’s in his other hand that throws me. Two shovels, their metal heads gleaming faintly.
“Oliver?” My voice is a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “What are those for?”
He offers me a sheepish grin, the kind that used to make me forgive him for anything. “Our time capsule. Remember? We buried it right here eight years ago.” He gestures to a spot near the library’s side entrance, an area now more shadow than grass due to the encroachment of night.
“Are you serious?” I balk at the idea. It seems so… whimsical, and whimsy is a luxury I can’t afford right now, not with life becoming one stressful event after another.
“Come on, Nora,” he pleads, his eyes searching mine. They’re the same deep hazel that once held promises of forever. “It’ll be fun. Like old times.”
“Fun?” I cross my arms, feeling the edge of frustration sharpen my tone. “Why would you ask me here to dig up some old box? What’s the real reason, Oliver?”
He sets the shovels down with a soft thud against the well-tended lawn and steps closer. His presence is as commanding as ever, yet there’s a vulnerability there that wasn’t present before. “I guess… I wanted us to remember who we were back then, what we dreamed of. And maybe find some clarity.”
“Clarity?” The word hangs between us, a plea.
“Please, Nora.” His voice lowers, a touch of desperation seeping through. “Just this one last thing. After that, if you want, you can walk away. I won’t stop you.”
My resolve wavers as I look into his eyes, seeing the man who once knew all my secrets. Now he’s asking for one night — just a few minutes of digging in the dirt to unearth memories better left buried. But standing here, with the crisp night air and the scent of nostalgia heavy around us, it’s hard to say no.
“Fine,” I relent, surprising myself with the ease of my surrender. “But after this, we’re done. We go our separate ways.”
“Deal,” he says quickly, relief flooding his features.
I take the shovel he offers and follow him to the spot where our past awaits, hidden just beneath the surface. There’s no turning back now. We’re about to dig up more than just a time capsule. We’re digging up the remnants of a past life, one where everything once seemed possible.
The moon casts a pale glow over the campus as I plunge my shovel into the earth, the metallic sound grating against the silence of the night. The library looms nearby, its windows dark and watchful. Oliver digs beside me, his movements methodical and sure, as if this isn’t the first decision he’s made today that could alter our lives forever.
“Remember how we thought we’d be unstoppable after graduation?” I say, tossing another shovelful of dirt to the side. My hands are starting to blister, but there’s something cathartic about this physical labor, breaking through layers of soil and years.
“Unstoppable and invincible,” he corrects, flashing that grin that always seemed too confident for his own good, even now. It’s the same smile that once made me believe anything was possible when we were together.
We dig in silence for a while longer, the only sounds our grunts of effort and the clink of metal on stone. Finally, the shovel hits something solid. My heart leaps — part excitement, part dread. We drop to our knees and brush away the remaining dirt, revealing the time capsule, edges rusted from years of being embraced by the earth.
Oliver pries it open with a satisfying creak, and our past spills out before us in a clutter of objects and papers. There, amidst college memorabilia, are the letters we wrote to our future selves. Mine is sealed with a sticker, a whimsical touch from a girl who had yet to face the harsher realities of life.
I break the seal, unfold the paper, and read the looping handwriting of a younger me. Words of ambition and dreams fill the page, but woven through them, like a golden thread, is the importance of love. Tears blur my vision as I realize that despite all the professional accolades and long hours at the firm, it’s love that’s been the undercurrent of my life, the driving force behind every success and failure. The revelation tightens my throat, and I blink back the moisture threatening to spill.
“Here goes nothing,” Oliver announces, drawing my attention.
He holds his letter, a little more weather-beaten than mine, and begins to read aloud. His voice is steady, but there’s an undercurrent of emotion that I’ve never heard before.
“Dear Future Oliver,” he starts, and I’m transported back to those heady days of youth. “By now, you’re probably killing it in the real estate world. High-rises bearing your name, deals closing left and right…”
He trails off for a moment, shaking his head with a wry smile before continuing. “But remember, Ollie, success isn’t just about the numbers in your bank account or the square footage you own. It’s about the people you share it with.”
His eyes meet mine, and there’s an intensity there that makes my breath catch. “One day, you’ll be able to stop and breathe. You’ll have made it. Maybe then you can move on to other things. Find a girl and settle down. Actually, not just any girl… I’m hoping that you find one in particular. Or, rather, find your way back to her. That is if she’s even still interested in you after you backed away from kissing her at that party.”
There’s a vulnerability in his confession, a raw honesty that resonates deep within me. Oliver, the man who seemed to have everything figured out, who climbed to the top only to find it empty without someone to share the view. And not just someone…
He’s talking about me.
“Everything I wanted…” he murmurs, his gaze still locked with mine, “it means nothing without love. A small part of me knew it back then but figured I would find my way to it eventually. I guess I let that part of me dwindle and die. I’m sorry, Nora.”
And in that moment, with the past unearthed between us, I see not the CEO, not the entrepreneur, but the boy I fell in love with, standing bare and unguarded, holding out his heart in the form of a tattered old letter.
The chill of the night air doesn’t touch me, not with the warmth of Oliver’s confession seeping into my bones. He stands there, shovel in hand, looking every bit the man who’s realized what it means to love and lose.
“Look, Nora,” he starts, his voice firm but threaded with a plea that tugs at something deep within me. “I know I’ve made mistakes — more than I can count.” His chuckle is self-deprecating, and it’s so achingly familiar. “But through it all, it’s been you. It’s always been you.”
He steps closer, closing the distance that years and fears have stretched between us. “I’m all in, Nora. If you’ll have me, I want to be there — for you, for our child. Everything.” His eyes search mine, seeking answers in the depths of my soul. “I was a fool to freak out. To run from this… from us.”
His hands, those strong, capable hands, now shake slightly as he reaches out to me. “I want the best for you, for both of us. And I believe— no, I know… that’s each other.”
For a moment, silence stretches between us, filled only by the nocturnal chorus of the campus grounds. His words settle around us like a mantle, heavy with the gravity of what comes next.
“Oliver,” I whisper. “You scared me before. You ran when things got real.” My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to reach out, to bridge the gap between past hurts and future hopes. “But hearing you now, seeing you stand here with dirt on your hands and humility in your eyes — I believe you.”
My steps are small but certain as I close the last of the space between us. “You’re not the only one who’s been all in. I just… I needed to know we were on the same page.”
And then, as his arms encircle me, the years of doubt and the walls we built crumble into nothingness. Our lips meet, and it’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, a silent vow that speaks of new beginnings and shared dreams.
We break apart, breathless and smiling. The library looms behind us, a silent witness to our history and now, our future. Oliver’s smile is a sunrise, chasing away the shadows of our past missteps.
“Let’s do this together.” His voice brims with conviction that anchors me to this moment, to the undeniable truth that love, our love, is worth every risk.
“Let’s.” The word is more than simple agreement. It’s an oath, a pledge to the journey ahead, one we’ll walk as partners, as a family.
And in his embrace, under the starlit sky, I let happiness wash over us, knowing that the best is yet to come.