Chapter 9
Lily
I fall back onto the bed, the mattress shifting under my weight as I press the back of my hand flat against my mouth.
“What have I done?” I ask the empty ceiling, my voice a hollow whisper. “How can I just fall prey like that?”
My bottom lip still stings, the copper taste of his blood sharp on my tongue. I close my eyes, but the dark only brings back the sensation of his palms sliding up my thighs under the silk, lifting me onto the vanity as if I weighed nothing at all.
“I see you guys did kiss.”
My eyes snap open. My mother tracks into the bedroom, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Huh?” I sit up quickly, smoothing the front of my robe.
“I told you they did,” my father says, following right behind her through the doorway, his reading glasses tucked into his shirt pocket.
I look between the two of them, my cheeks heating up. “What? Did Noah tell you guys that?”
“No,” my mother laughs, a bright sound that fills the small room. “You just injured the poor man, and the kid was walking out the door smiling like he won a lottery.” She turns to her husband, playfully slapping his arm before she slides onto the edge of the mattress alongside him.
The mattress dips under their combined weight. Dad sits back, his expression turning serious as he fixes his eyes on me. “So, what are we doing now, baby? Do you think he has gotten to know the exact reasons as to why you left?”
I shake my head, looking down at my fingers twisting the tie of my robe. “He is seeing what he did wrong,” I say softly. “But I don’t think he’s seeing the exact impact his silence had on me. I’m just scared, I guess. That it will all happen again if I go back.”
I find both of my parents staring at me with a quiet, knowing patience. The silence makes me nervous, and I rush to explain. “I mean, what if it does happen again? What if he neglects me the second work gets busy? What if...”
“He won't,” Dad cuts in, his voice level and steady. “If he is the Noah that I know, I am a hundred percent certain that he won't.”
I tilt my head, searching his face. “Why are you so sure?”
Dad looks over at my mother, his hand reaching out to touch hers where it rests on the duvet. He squeezes her fingers, then looks back at me, his eyes dark with an old, heavy truth. “Because there was a time, years ago, when I cheated on your mother. She was pregnant with you.”
The room goes completely cold. My breath catches in my throat. “Wait...”
He nods slowly, his jaw tightening. “Yeah.
There was a time I did something so bad to your mother.
And, uh... I was terrified. I didn't know how I was ever going to apologize. So instead of going home to face her, I went right back to the other woman I had slept with, sitting in her apartment and telling her about all the reasons why I was feeling so sad.”
He turns to look at my mother’s profile, his thumb tracing the back of her knuckles. Then he looks back at me. “Guess what?”
I can only stare at him, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“It happened a second time,” Dad says plainly. “And when I finally walked through our front door, reeking of her perfume, I was fully prepared to tell your mother everything.”
He pauses. I look at my mother, waiting for her face to harden, waiting for the old anger to show. But her expression doesn't change. Her palm stays flat against his knee, rubbing the fabric in slow, comforting circles.
“But before I could say a word,” Dad continues, his throat clicking as he swallows, “she stepped out into the hallway crying. She wrapped her arms around me and asked, 'Where were you? I thought something terrible had happened to you.'”
The words hit my chest like a physical weight.
“I felt immense guilt,” Dad whispers, looking down at the rug.
“So I got completely silent. I moved around this house like a zombie for weeks.
And for someone who had a pregnant wife, that isn't exactly the best response to give.
One night, while she was complaining about something—the groceries, the house, it didn't matter—the guilt choked me so badly that I just stopped talking.”
He stops, his fingers tightening around my mother's hand.
“She slept,” he says softly. “We both did. And I woke up in the morning to see that she had packed her bags and left.”
A single tear spills over his lower lid, tracking down into the lines of his cheek. He reaches up with his free hand, clearing the dampness away quickly.
“How did you apologize?” I ask, my voice barely a squeak.
“I had to woo her all over again,” Dad says, a faint, watery smile touching his lips.
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I didn't see you or your mom for two whole years, Lily.
And believe me, when she finally let me back in, I couldn't even understand what had made me stray in the first place. I needed to be around her kindness just to breathe better. It took a long time for her to trust me again.”
He shifts, looking fully at my mother, and pulls her into a brief, tight hug. “But right now, we are in a better place, and I am loving every second of it.”
He turns his face back to me, his shoulders dropping into a relaxed posture.
“So what you're saying is what, exactly?” I ask, leaning forward on my elbows.
“Marriage itself is a risk,” Dad says, his tone firming up. “But for you to make it less risky, you just have to do all that you need to do. Once you guys forgive yourselves, I think you should lay out some ground rules. Let him understand exactly what to do and what not to do from here on out.”
I nod my head, taking in the weight of his advice, the linoleum-hard reality of what they survived. “So, uh...” I look at my mother. “What do you have to add to that, Ma?”
She clears her throat, shifting her weight on the mattress as she turns to her husband, giving him a small smile before looking back at me.
“Spice it up,” she says plainly. “Be as intimate as you can with your husband, Lily. Make sure that after each time you spend together, the both of you are completely happy.”
I blink, my mouth dropping open slightly. “So you're saying I should try to have sex more often with Noah?”
My mother nods her head, a cute, unbothered smile spreading across her face. “Yes. That is exactly what I am saying.”
“It works,” Dad chimes in, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he stands up from the bed. “You can bring the kids over whenever you want. We will be more than glad to host our grandchildren while you two figure it out.”
***
After my parents leave the bedroom, I sit alone on the edge of the mattress, the silence of the room letting my thoughts settle.
I want to run straight back to him. Even before my father spoke with such certainty about Noah never repeating his mistakes, I already knew it in my heart.
Before everything else fell apart, Noah was always a good man.
He is a man who understands, a man who pays attention when it truly counts.
I reach down to the floor and slide his letter out from under the bed. As my eyes trace his handwriting for the second time, a genuine smile pulls at my lips, refusing to fade.
***
A sudden knock rattles my office door.
"Come in," I call out, folding the paper and sliding it safely into my drawer.
The door swings wide. "Hey, princess," John says, his voice cutting through the quiet room as he strolls inside, his eyes shining with a playful, familiar excitement.
I look up at him, a knot of irritation tightening in my stomach. John is a man I have rapidly come to not appreciate being around. "Hello, John. To what do I owe this surprise visit?"
"It's not a surprise visit," he says, leaning his hip against the corner of my mahogany desk. "Seeing that I always come to check up on you whenever I get the chance. So, I am here to take you out on a date."
I look at him for a long beat, thinking back to the man he used to be, and a sudden realization hits me. I stand up immediately, smoothing my skirt. "Come on, John. Let's go for that date."
He blinks, his playful smirk faltering into complete surprise. "Wait. Like right now?"
"Well, I have absolutely nothing to do at the moment," I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I look him up and down. "And it doesn't look like you have much to do yourself."
The smirk returns, and he nods, his confidence snapping back into place. "You are absolutely right. Come on, news princess."
We walk out of the building together. With every step down the crowded corridor, I send up a silent prayer in my heart that management fires him after today, or that something completely unpredictable happens so I never have to see his face again.
***
We take a small table near the wide glass windows of a cafe located directly across the street from my husband’s office building.
I sit back, watching John with narrowing eyes.
Noah has always been a creature of habit when it comes to his morning coffee, and it would be strange if he didn't show up here while we are seated right here.
I look across the small table at the handsome face of the man in front of me, the suspicion in my chest growing too heavy to ignore.
"Why did you bring me here of all places, John? My husband’s studio is right across the asphalt, and our seats are directly next to the glass. What are you playing at?"
John lets out a low laugh, tapping his fingers against his saucer. "Well, I just asked the production crew for the nearest coffee spot and this was the place they referred me to. I chose this specific seat because it has a nice view."
I glance through the glass toward the towering network building across the street, letting out a soft sigh.
"So, you wanted a date to discuss things," I say, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the table. "Alright. Let us do just that. What exactly do you want, John?"
"Well, I want you," he says simply, his gaze locking onto mine.
"I don't want you, John. I am, after all, a married woman."