POV Norah
Two days.
That’s how long I’d been staying at Chris’s apartment, and it felt like I was living in a bubble I didn’t ask for. A safe, comfortable bubble—but one that didn’t feel like mine.
Chris had been good to me. Too good, almost.
He made sure I ate, even when my stomach turned from stress. He gave me the bedroom, insisting he’d sleep on the couch, no matter how many times I told him it wasn’t necessary.
He bought me fruit bowls, ginger tea, even those silly little chocolate croissants I liked, claiming I had to keep my cravings satisfied “for the baby.”
One night, as I curled up on the couch scrolling mindlessly, he sat across from me, his eyes soft, his tone gentle.
“Norah,” he said quietly, “I don’t care that you’re pregnant with my brother’s child.”
I froze. My chest tightened. “Chris—”
“No,” he cut me off, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I mean it. I don’t care. I’ll step up. I’ll be here. You don’t need to face this alone, not when I—”
He stopped himself, his jaw tightening, his throat working as if he swallowed words too heavy to say aloud.
I couldn’t meet his gaze. My fingers twisted in the hem of my shirt as guilt and gratitude churned together. He was the sweetest man, patient, generous, steady. He made everything feel calm.
But no matter how hard I tried, my heart refused to beat for him the way it did for Xander.
And God, how I hated Xander. I hated him for doubting me, for humiliating me, for letting Alaina stand between us like a wall I could never climb.
I hated him for breaking me apart and still being the only one I ached for when the lights went out at night.
And I missed him.
It was pathetic. But the truth was a sharp thorn lodged too deep to ignore.
My body missed his presence, my mind replayed every look he gave me, and my heart—traitorous thing—kept whispering his name even as I tried to bury it beneath anger.
On the second morning, Fiona barged into Chris’s apartment like she owned it, tugging at my arm.
“Come on, mama, you’ve got an ultrasound appointment, remember? You’re not skipping this one.”
So I went.
The waiting room smelled like disinfectant and lavender air freshener. Fiona flipped through a magazine, her leg bouncing restlessly, while I tried to steady my breathing.
My nerves weren’t just about the ultrasound—they were about everything. About Chris sitting at home probably worrying, about Xander who haunted my every thought, about Alaina’s shadow hovering over all of us.
The nurse finally called my name. Fiona stood and slipped her hand into mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“We’ve got this,” she whispered.
But I didn’t expect him.
When the door opened again, and I heard his voice—deep, familiar, so achingly missed—I nearly dropped to the floor.
“Norah.”
I spun around. My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Xander?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, my whole body trembling. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He looked almost desperate, his usually polished composure fraying around the edges. His eyes locked onto me, ignoring the nurse, ignoring Fiona. “I had to see you.”
My throat dried out. “How did you even know I was here?”
And then I saw Fiona’s face. My so-called best friend wouldn’t meet my eyes.
She gave a sheepish smile and murmured, “Babe… I think you two need to talk. You’re carrying his baby after all.”
“Fiona!” I hissed, betrayal cutting through me.
She lifted her hands defensively. “Don’t kill me. Just… hear him out.”
Then she excused herself, leaving me standing there with the man who had shattered me, yet still managed to hold every piece of me in his hands.
The silence was heavy until he finally spoke, his voice rough.
“Norah, I need you to understand. I’m settling everything with Alaina. She’s nothing to me anymore. That part of my life is over.”
I laughed bitterly, folding my arms over my chest. “Over? You call her barging in, calling me names, collapsing into your arms over? Because it doesn’t look like over to me.”
He took a step closer, his eyes pleading.
“She’s the past. A mistake I can’t undo. But you—” His voice cracked, just slightly. “You’re my future, Norah. You and our child. That’s all I care about.”
Tears pricked my eyes, but I forced them back.
“And how am I supposed to trust you? How do I know this isn’t just another promise you’ll break when she snaps her fingers?”
“I’ll prove it to you,” he said fiercely, his jaw set, his gaze unshakable. “I’ll do whatever it takes. If I have to move heaven and earth, if I have to fight every ghost she throws at us—I’ll do it. Just don’t shut me out.”
My heart pounded, torn between fury and longing. Every word out of his mouth was exactly what I wanted and exactly what terrified me.
“Xander,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You don’t get it. You broke me.”
He reached for me, hesitating just before his hand touched mine, his voice softer now, desperate.
“I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life fixing that if you let me. Please, Norah. Please come back home.”
I didn’t say yes right away.
I said, “I’ll try,” while staring at his hands, at the faint white line across his knuckles from some old fight he never talks about.
I said, “My trust is… thin,” and he nodded like he’d earned every missing inch of it.
“Then I’ll thicken it,” he said softly. “Start with this—let me meet your parents. Properly. Not as your boss. As the man who’s asking you to come home.”
Home. His penthouse.
Our strange, glass-walled limbo.
I moved back that night with a single suitcase and a hundred doubts rattling around inside it. He didn’t hover. He carried the bag, made the bed, set a glass of water on my nightstand, then left the door cracked like I might run. I didn’t. I lay awake and listened to his footsteps pacing the hall until they finally stopped.
The next day he insisted on dinner with my parents.
“Not a restaurant,” I said. “Our place. Queens.”
“Good,” he answered. “I want to see where you grew up.”
“You’ll hate it,” I warned.
“I’ll like what you like,” he said, and I had to look away so he wouldn’t see my heart do something stupid.