Chapter 10 — The Weight of Unspoken Things
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The name Beatrice echoed in Natasha’s mind long after they left the park.
Even as they walked back to the car, even as Charm skipped ahead gleefully with her pink rabbit balloon, Natasha felt the weight of it pressing against her chest. The atmosphere had shifted instantly the moment the woman appeared.
Henrick’s face had hardened in a way Natasha hadn’t seen before—his jaw tense, his eyes cold, his posture stiff.
He didn’t look shocked.
He looked… displeased.
But still—there was something there. Something unspoken. Something shared.
Natasha tried not to let her imagination run wild, but it was useless. The woman’s confident poise, the soft waves of her hair, the expensive clothes she wore, the way she said his name as if she had every right to—
No, stop.
She shook her head lightly.
Focus on Charm.
But even the child’s giggles felt distant as Natasha watched Henrick open the car door with more force than necessary, clearly wanting to leave before Beatrice caught up. The woman’s footsteps were hurried behind them.
“Henrick! Henrick, wait!”
He didn’t look back.
He practically ushered Charm into the car, then Natasha. His voice was low, controlled, but sharp around the edges.
“Seatbelts.”
Natasha nodded, fumbling slightly because her hands trembled. Henrick shut her door gently—but the tension radiating off him made the air feel charged.
Beatrice reached them just as he rounded the front of the car.
“Henrick, please!” she called out, voice cracking for the first time. “Just talk to me!”
Henrick did not stop.
Did not glance at her.
Did not acknowledge her.
He opened the driver’s door, slid inside, and slammed it shut before Beatrice could even take another step.
The woman stood helpless in the parking lot, staring after them as the car pulled away.
Natasha couldn’t help but glance back through the rear windshield.
The woman was still there.
Still calling after him.
Still reaching.
Natasha didn’t know who she was.
But she mattered to Henrick.
Or she once did.
And even if she didn’t matter anymore—she mattered enough to show up like that.
Natasha looked away, her chest tight.
The ride back was strangely quiet.
Charm fell asleep halfway, head resting lightly on Natasha’s lap. Natasha stroked the girl’s hair slowly, staring out the window, processing everything in silence. She wanted to ask Henrick. She wanted to understand.
But his hands were tight around the steering wheel, knuckles pale, jaw grinding in tension.
Not angry.
Not exactly.
Something deeper. Something old.
Natasha swallowed her questions. She wasn’t ready to hear answers she might not want.
When they arrived at Natasha’s condo, Charm was still asleep. Henrick unbuckled her gently, carrying her with practiced familiarity as he led Natasha to the lobby.
“Thank you… for today,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.
Natasha nodded once, her voice soft.
“Yeah.”
The elevator chimed open. He stepped inside with Charm in his arms, giving Natasha a faint, unreadable look before the doors closed.
A look that felt like goodbye.
A look that felt like distance.
Natasha stood there long after he disappeared.
Beatrice’s image wouldn’t leave her mind.
Why did the woman look like she knew him?
Why did she call his name like someone who had the right to be upset?
Why did Henrick look so… haunted?
And worst of all—
Why did Natasha care so much?
She sighed deeply, hugging herself as she walked toward her door.
Everything was too confusing.
Too heavy.
Too fragile.
MONDAY AT THE OFFICE
By Monday morning, Natasha had convinced herself that she was at least emotionally prepared to see Henrick at work again.
She was wrong.
The moment she stepped into the lobby, she saw him emerging from the elevator, talking to another department head. His face looked calmer than yesterday—but not by much. Stress still clung to him like a shadow.
Natasha’s heart jumped.
But she kept her pace steady, professional, and walked toward her cubicle.
Be normal.
Be composed.
Don’t assume anything.
However, when she sat down and opened her laptop, she realized she had been staring aimlessly at the screen for ten minutes. She couldn’t shake the nagging questions swirling in her mind—
Who was Beatrice?
Why was Henrick avoiding her?
What happened between them?
Why did it hurt to think about it?
Her thoughts were interrupted when someone gasped from the reception area.
Natasha looked up.
Her stomach instantly knotted.
Beatrice was standing inside the company lobby.
Looking frantic. Desperate.
And unmistakably out of place among the employees.
Natasha’s heart began to race.
Not here.
Not in the office.
Henrick appeared a moment later, clearly alerted by someone. His steps were slow, heavy, reluctant.
“Beatrice,” he said sharply, voice low and firm. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I need to talk to you,” she insisted, stepping closer. “Please, Henrick. I’ve tried calling, texting—everything. You won’t answer.”
“Because I don’t want to talk,” he replied, jaw clenched.
Employees began whispering from behind their desks, eyes darting back and forth between the two. The atmosphere thickened with curiosity.
Natasha froze.
She shouldn’t watch.
She should look away.
But she couldn’t.
Henrick turned, clearly wanting to escort Beatrice out before things escalated—
But the woman reached for his arm.
“Just hear me out—”
“No,” Henrick said firmly, snatching his hand back.
But his composure slipped. Something in him cracked.
And he grabbed her wrist—not harshly, but decisively.
Firm enough to lead her.
Firm enough to end the conversation here.
He tugged her toward the exit.
And Natasha watched it all unfold from her seat.
Her heart—
Sank.
Beatrice’s wrist in Henrick’s hand.
Henrick dragging her out to talk somewhere private.
Beatrice looking up at him with desperate familiarity.
Natasha’s gaze slowly dropped to her own hands.
Her chest tightened painfully, tightening more with every step Henrick took away from her.
Why did it hurt like this?
Why did she feel as if someone was slowly pushing a blade between her ribs?
She stared blankly at the floor.
This is nothing.
Henrick and I are nothing.
He doesn’t owe me anything.
We’re just… something undefined.
But the truth she didn’t want to admit echoed in her head:
I want us to be something.
The whispers around her grew louder.
“Who is she…?”
“Is she his ex?”
“They look like they had a fight…”
“Is that the CEO’s woman?”
Natasha swallowed hard.
She didn't want to hear any of it.
The elevator dinged softly behind her, and several employees rushed toward the windows where Henrick had taken Beatrice outside.
And Natasha—
She sat still.
Frozen.
Only when she blinked did she feel the heat building behind her eyes.
She shut her laptop slowly, taking a deep breath that wavered at the end.
She didn’t cry.
Not here.
Not in front of colleagues.
Instead, she stood, excused herself quietly, and headed toward the restroom. Each step felt heavier. Each breath stung a little more.
No matter how she tried to deny it—
Jealousy carved its mark deep into her heart.
Not because Henrick held Beatrice’s wrist.
But because it showed history.
Connection.
Something Natasha couldn’t compete with.
Something she had no right to question.
And yet—
She wanted to.
She wanted to ask him everything.
She wanted answers.
But most of all—
She wanted him.
And that realization made her grip the sink tightly, staring at her reflection.
“Don’t fall apart,” she whispered to herself.
But her voice cracked.
Because she already felt like she was breaking.
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