Chapter 12
Noah
The morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting long, pale squares across the hardwood floor.
I blink against the heaviness under my eyelids, the fog of the fever still clinging to the edges of my brain.
As I draw a slow breath, something hits me before I even fully open my eyes.
It is a scent. Lavender and clean rain. It is the exact fragrance that used to linger on the pillows, the one that disappeared from this room sixteen months ago.
I bolt upright, the sheets twisting around my waist. My heart hammers against my ribs. I stand up too fast, the room tilting slightly as my bare feet hit the cold floor, and I practically stumble into the master bathroom.
I stop at the sink, my hands gripping the marble edge.
There, sitting right next to my shaving cream, is a small purple bottle.
The plastic cap is slightly damp. I reach out, my fingers trembling as I pick it up and press it to my nose.
It’s real. I finish my business in a frantic rush, my chest tightening with a sudden, suffocating hope, and wheel around to drag open the heavy wardrobe doors.
I freeze at the sight.
The left side of the rail is no longer just empty black hangers pushed into a corner. A soft grey cardigan hangs there. Right next to it is a silk blouse, the fabric wrinkled slightly from being packed in a bag. The graveyard of empty space has been broken.
A breathless sound escapes my throat. I turn on my heel, throwing the bedroom door open, and sprint down the hallway. My bare feet click rapidly against the wooden stairs. I take them two at a time, my chest heaving, the remaining chill of the flu entirely forgotten.
I hit the landing of the living room just as Lily appears from the kitchen.
She stops near the edge of the rug. She is wearing a simple knit dress, her short dark hair falling loose around her neck, holding a steaming mug between her palms. I stand frozen, my hands hovering in the air between us as if touching the air might shatter the image.
"Tell me I'm dreaming," I whisper, my voice thick and rough. I take a half-step forward, my eyes wide as they track the reality of her collarbones, the slant of her shoulders. "I mean... I have got to be dreaming right now. Are you actually here, Lily?"
A slow, steady smile finds its way to her face. She sets the mug down on the side table with a soft clink.
"In the flesh, Noah," she says softly. She looks at the state of my unbuttoned shirt and the sweat dampening my hair, her eyes softening with that old, familiar strictness. "Go freshen up. Wash the fever off. I'll be right here."
I don't argue. I run back upstairs, the water from the shower hitting my skin in a hot rush, and I scrub myself clean in minutes.
I throw on a soft black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, not even bothering with shoes before I am back down the stairs, finding her sitting comfortably on the center of the sofa.
I take a seat on the cushions opposite her, keeping a careful foot of distance between us, though every nerve in my skin wants to close the gap.
"Are you in the mood to converse?" she asks, tilting her head.
"Sure," I say, my voice clearer now. "The kids... where are they?"
"I helped Iris pack their things this morning," she says, her fingers tracing the edge of her knit dress. "Liam ran into the kitchen demanding to know if Mummy was back. I told him somewhat, for now. They're going over to Aunt Melody's house for two days so you can actually rest and heal."
A soft chuckle escapes her lips as she remembers the morning.
"Ava sat at the island eating a pancake, teasing him that he was only agreeing to go because Uncle Arthur brought the new racing game. She told him he’d completely tossed his mother aside for the love of video games.
Nora didn't care about the banter; she just climbed into my lap and held onto my waist like a little anchor. "
Lily looks down at her hands, the amusement leaving her face, replaced by a quiet weight. "Ava looked around the kitchen before they left and told me they missed this. I just nodded. I couldn't speak, Noah. I was so afraid that if I opened my mouth, I’d start crying right in front of them."
I listen to every detail, the picture of the morning filling the empty corners of my mind. "I'm sorry," I say, my palms resting flat on my knees. "For causing all of this. For making the kids carry this mess."
"It's okay," she says, her voice steady. "The separation... it was needed. But you're my husband."
I take a shallow breath, leaning closer. "So... what do you want to talk about?"
"Everything," she says plainly.
I nod, the sheer vastness of the past decade rising up between us. "Where do I start? What do you want to know first, Lily?"
"Why did we stop being like before?" she asks. Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, and she looks genuinely confused, her hand flying out in a wide gesture as if trying to grasp an explanation out of the empty air. "It felt... it felt as though you hated me, Noah."
"Never," I say instantly. I slide off my cushion, moving across the rug until I am kneeling directly in front of her knees, looking up into her face.
"I guess I was terrified you would see me as incompetent.
After my dad died from the stress of his hours, I panicked.
I was so afraid of us getting broke, of not being able to secure the house or the kids' future.
I felt like I was failing, and I could see you weren't happy, and instead of fixing it, I buried myself in the studio.
I got used to the status quo. I just stopped thinking. "
I reach out, my fingers wrapping around her hands, the warmth of her skin grounding me. "But oh God... I know there is no excuse for missing our babies' deliveries. The way I treated you, the silence I gave you... it was inhumane."
Lily looks down at our joined fingers, a single tear slipping over her eyelashes.
"I saw your list on the mirror frame downstairs," I whisper, my throat tightening. "I saw they weren't ticked, Lily. I don't even know what to say to that. But I am so sorry."
She wipes the dampness from her cheek with the back of her free hand, a sudden spark of her old fire returning to her eyes.
"Don't you ever do that to me again," she says, her voice trembling.
"I mean... I knew we were going to make up eventually.
But at some point over the last year, I didn't want to make it easy.
I needed you to suffer too. I wanted you to beg.
But then again, we have three children, and keeping this distance isn't advisable for them. "
She pauses, her gaze narrowing slightly as she locks her eyes onto mine. "From now on, you tell me what you feel. You don't go around keeping it inside or telling others. And plus... I don't like it when you are around Celeste."
“You know what?”
“What?” I ask her
"Tell me about Celeste."
"Lily…"
"I'm not asking you to defend yourself," she says, keeping her voice level. "I'm asking you to tell me the truth. Because I need to hear it from you directly before we move past it."
I am quiet for a long beat. I exhale and look her straight in the eye, the air in the room suddenly feeling thin.
"Nothing physical ever happened," I say, my grip on her fingers tightening. "Not once. I need you to know that first."
She waits, her eyes unblinking, pulling the rest of the confession out of me.
"But I talked to her," I say, the honesty cutting raw through my throat.
"About things I should have been telling you.
The pressure at the network, the fear about money, the grief after my dad.
It wasn't romantic. But it was..." I stop, choosing the word carefully.
"It was misplaced. I gave her a closeness that belonged to you, and I didn't even realize I was doing it until you were gone and I looked back and saw it clearly. "
The room is completely quiet.
"She means nothing to me," I say, leaning closer to her. "She never did. Not the way you do. There is no version of my life where Celeste is a replacement for you. She isn't even a comparison."
Lily looks at my face. I can tell she is reading me, checking for any hint of performance, but she finds only the plain truth.
"Okay," she says quietly.
"Okay?" I repeat, my heart doing a nervous skip against my ribs. "Are you serious?"
"Okay," she says again. "I believe you." She squeezes my fingers once, a tiny spark of her warmth returning. "But I need you to set a boundary with her. A real one. Not for my sake... for ours."
"Done," I say immediately. There is absolutely no hesitation in my voice.
She nods, and we sit in the quiet for a moment, the heavy gridlock of the last sixteen months finally settling into nothing.
"Thank you," she says finally. "For not making me drag that out of you."
I am intensely tempted to open my mouth and explain more, but I choose to ask instead.
"Why did you come back today?" I ask softly, looking at the dark rich color of her eyes.
"Well, you fell ill," she says, a tiny smirk tugging at her mouth. "And plus, my kids were terrified. And plus... I missed you." She looks down at the floor, her cheeks spotting with a faint pink. "And plus... I felt your letters were pretty cute."
A low, emotional breath escapes my chest. It feels completely weird, this ending like this, the simplicity of her grace hitting me so hard that I feel as though I deserve none of it. I drop my forehead against her knuckles, kissing the smooth skin of her hand over and over.
"Please forgive me," I whisper against her skin. "I promise to be a better husband. I promise to do what I am supposed to do without even being told to. I just need you to forgive me, Lily."
She doesn't answer with words. Instead, she slides off the cushions, landing on her knees right on the rug with me, and throws her arms around my neck. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her into my chest so tightly the air leaves my lungs.