Two Hearts

Was it a Mistake?

Daniel's POV

The moment Laura agreed to come to the cabin with me, I froze.

Completely froze.

For a second, I genuinely had no idea what to say.

As I walked toward my room, one thought kept repeating itself over and over again.

Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?

I quickly threw some clothes into a bag. Nothing fancy. Just comfortable things. The simplest clothes I owned. No matter what people thought of me. No matter what image I carefully maintained every single day. At the end of it all, I was still just a man. A man who occasionally wanted to escape.

The cabin had always been my escape place. Mine. Only mine.

Nobody else was allowed there.

At the cabin, I could be whoever I wanted to be - Free. No judgment. No expectations. No father's lectures. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Whenever life became too much, I would take a few days off, turn off my phone, and disappear. I'd sit by the sea. Enjoy the silence. The peace. The waves. I did things nobody would ever imagine Daniel Carter doing.

I chopped wood. Fixed things around the house. Sanded old furniture. Took long walks along the beach with nothing but my thoughts for company. I did everything I never did in my real life.

At the cabin, I wasn't a CEO. I wasn't a businessman. I wasn't a carefully crafted image. I was simply myself.

I stared at the bag sitting on my bed. For some reason, I didn't want to pick it up. It felt dangerous. Like it might burn me the moment I touched it.

For God's sake, Daniel. It's just a trip to the cabin.

We'll get away from this nightmare for a couple of days. Take a breath. Look at everything from the outside. Talk.

Even inside my own head, I paused.

Talk.

Right. That would definitely be easier there than here. And yet somehow, I had a feeling it would be even harder.

The drive started in a surprisingly amusing way.

To my complete surprise—though maybe it shouldn't have surprised me that much—Laura wanted to sit in the back with the children.

At first, I thought she was joking. Then I realized she was serious. And then it finally clicked. Laura didn't want to be anywhere near me. Not if she could help it.

Honestly, I'd noticed it before.

Every time I got even slightly closer than usual, she tensed. She held her breath. Sometimes I genuinely thought she forgot how to breathe entirely.

She always tried to keep a certain distance between us. A very deliberate distance.

I didn't exactly blame her. I wasn't looking for closeness either. But whether we liked it or not, sooner or later we'd have to cross that line.

An accidental touch. A hug. A hand on the shoulder.

Something.

My grandmother would watch us like a hawk, especially if she lived with us. And if we were going to sell this lie, we'd have to make it believable.

My mind immediately supplied the worst possible scenario - A random weekday morning. Breakfast finished. Me leaving for work. Leaning down to kiss Laura goodbye - “See you later, sweetheart.”

The thought alone made my stomach twist.

A kiss?

Hell. I didn't do kisses. Not on cheeks. Not on foreheads. And definitely not on lips.

The realization hit me so hard that I almost wanted to pull the car over and die right there.

The drive itself wasn't easy either.

I quickly discovered something important. Children were loud. Constantly. They talked. Asked questions. Argued. Provoked adults for fun. Tested everyone's patience. And somehow turned it all into a joke.

I still couldn't believe the joke I'd thrown at Markus earlier. The one that made all of us laugh. All of us. Even Laura.

For the first time, I saw her completely forget herself. The tension disappeared. The fear disappeared. The constant worry vanished. For a brief moment, she was simply happy.

And it struck me harder than I expected. Because it felt like I was looking at an entirely different Laura.

When we finally arrived at the cabin, I thought everything would become easier.

It didn't.

Not even close.

My realization that there were only two bedrooms upstairs came much later than it should have. By then, it was already too late.

So I did the only reasonable thing.

I gave Laura my bedroom. The children got the guest room next door. A room originally intended for visitors. Not that anyone had ever actually stayed there.

Ever.

A while ago, I'd even considered turning it into an office. What was the point of keeping a guest room nobody used? Nobody came here.

Nobody.

The cabin wasn't meant for guests. It was my sanctuary. My safe place. The one place where I could disappear.

And now here we were - Laura. Her children.

Standing in the middle of the one place I'd sworn would always remain mine.

I still couldn't believe I'd done it. I'd crossed a boundary I had created myself. And somehow, I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

I left my bag downstairs on the couch and didn't say a word. Laura pretended not to notice. I pretended it wasn't a big deal.

Neither of us acknowledged the obvious. And somehow, that made it easier.

For now.

Later, we walked along the beach.

The sun was shining. The waves rolled lazily onto the shore. The children ran ahead somewhere in the distance. And for the first time in weeks, there was peace.

Real peace.

Laura and I walked side by side. Not talking. Not arguing. Not negotiating.

Just walking.

Listening to the sea. Listening to the wind. Listening to nothing at all. And strangely enough, it felt nice.

Something about the cabin changed her. I noticed it the second we stepped out of the car. The tension she'd been carrying for weeks seemed to dissolve into the sea air. She looked calmer. Lighter. Like she could finally breathe.

Which, admittedly, had been the entire point of coming here.

I still didn't know why I'd pointed it out.

The words had left my mouth before I'd even thought about them.

"You look different here."

When Laura asked what I meant, I teased her instead. A mistake. Or maybe not.

Because I quickly discovered that watching Laura change expressions was surprisingly entertaining. One moment she looked peaceful. The next, she looked ready to commit murder. And when I told her she seemed less angry here?

There it was.

That look.

The one that clearly said she wanted to slap me. The fact that she never actually did somehow made it even funnier.

Internally, I was laughing. Not cruelly.

Just...

Amused.

I could see she'd already prepared a sharp comeback. Probably one I'd deserve. But before she could say it, Ellia came running toward us.

"Daniel! Come help me find shells!"

Before I could protest, she grabbed my hand and started dragging me away.

I managed one desperate glance over my shoulder - Help me.

Laura's smile was immediate. Victorious.

The kind that said: Serves you right. Deal with it yourself.

Traitor.

Surprisingly, being around the children was easy. Much easier than being around Laura. Ellia immediately turned shell collecting into a serious operation. Markus joined in five minutes later and proposed a competition.

Who could find the biggest shell. The prettiest shell. The weirdest shell.

Game on.

Suddenly, we weren't collecting shells anymore. We were treasure hunters. We walked along the shoreline searching for hidden prizes while arguing over rules nobody had established. And somehow...

I enjoyed it.

More than I wanted to admit.

At one point, I caught myself laughing at something Markus said. Actually laughing. Not forcing it. Not pretending.

For a moment, I was ten years old again. Back on a beach with my mother and father. Before everything became complicated. Before expectations. Before responsibilities. Before grief.

For the first time all day, the situation didn't seem quite so terrible.

Unfortunately, that feeling disappeared the moment we returned to the cabin. The closer we got, the more nervous I became.

While Laura prepared dinner, I found every possible excuse not to be in the same room as her.

First, I went outside to prepare firewood. At least there, I knew what I was doing. I grabbed the axe and started chopping. Wood. Anger. Stress. Fear. Frustration. Every swing helped.

Every c***k of splitting timber loosened something inside me. It wasn't as effective as s*x. Nothing ever was.

But afterwards there was still a strange sense of relief. Like I'd emptied part of my head.

I carried the wood inside and lit the fireplace. The flames immediately filled the room with warmth.

And then I was faced with a problem - Now what?

I couldn't exactly keep chopping wood forever.

So I started wandering around the cabin.

Eventually, I stopped in front of one of the living room windows. The latch was loose. Perfect. A problem. I could fix problems. Problems made sense.

People didn't.

I muttered something about repairs, grabbed my toolbox from the shed, and spent the next half hour fixing something that probably could've waited another year.

Laura probably thought I'd completely lost my mind. One minute I was chopping wood. The next I was fixing windows. Then carrying firewood. Then disappearing again.

Honestly?

I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing either. But one thing was obvious. I was still avoiding her. Just differently than before.

Instead of running away, I was hiding behind chores.

After dinner, the children practically collapsed into bed. Fresh air had finally won.

The second they disappeared upstairs, I escaped outside again. I knew it wasn't fair. I could've helped Laura clear the table. I could've stayed. Started a conversation. Asked a simple question.

Anything.

Instead, I disappeared. Again.

Because the cabin suddenly felt too small. I wasn't alone anymore. And for some reason, that made it harder to breathe.

I walked down to the beach and sat directly in the sand. I didn't care if my clothes got dirty. That was the beauty of this place. None of that mattered here.

There were no expensive suits. No expectations. No carefully maintained image. Nobody cared. Nobody watched. Nobody judged.

Because the truth was, beneath everything people thought I was… I was a mess.

A complete mess.

I stared out at the darkening ocean. And tried to come up with a plan. Not for my grandmother. Not for the fake marriage.

For Laura.

For us. For whatever this strange arrangement had become. I needed to figure out how to talk to her without making everything awkward. How to start learning who she actually was. Not the facts from a contract. Not the details in a file.

The real person.

The conversation didn't have to be deep. Not yet.

Favorite color. Favorite food. Books. Music.

Anything.

Just something.

By the time I finally stood up, the sun had already disappeared. The evening air had turned cold. And I realized something.

Either I started trying now… Or I never would.

When I returned to the cabin, I spotted Laura sitting alone on the terrace. Wrapped in a blanket. Watching the ocean. She hadn't noticed me.

I quietly went inside. Made tea. And without thinking, I pulled out two mugs.

I stopped.

Two?

I stared at them.

Then sighed. Maybe she was cold. Maybe it would be a nice gesture. Maybe it could be our first real breakthrough. The realization hit me harder than I expected.

I was changing.

Slowly.

In tiny, almost invisible ways. But changing nonetheless. I noticed things now. I listened. I stayed. I didn't run.

And honestly?

That terrified me more than anything else. The image I'd spent years building was beginning to c***k. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to stop it.

I stepped outside.

Laura turned toward me. I offered her the mug. She accepted it immediately. Without arguing. Without questioning my motives. Without fighting me.

Honestly, that alone felt historic.

Because that was the hardest thing about Laura. She never surrendered. Never. She argued. Resisted. Questioned everything. She fought for every inch.

She never begged. Never complained. Never asked for favors. She simply endured. And kept going. Stronger than she looked. Much stronger.

We sat there quietly.

Tea warming our hands. The ocean roaring softly below. The wind moving through the grass.

And for the first time in a very long time...

I felt good. Too good.

That was when the realization hit me.

Hard.

And the only thing I could think was: This was a mistake.

I don't know where the next day went. It simply disappeared. One moment I was falling asleep to the sound of the ocean. The next, it was morning.

I took them to my favorite little tavern nearby for breakfast. It wasn't fancy. No luxury. No five-star service. No staff desperately trying to impress me in hopes of a bigger tip.

That was exactly why I liked it.

The place was honest. The food was simple. And somehow, that made it better than half the restaurants in the city.

The rest of the day blurred together.

We returned to the cabin. Walked along the beach again. The children ran around. The waves rolled in and out.

Time seemed to stop existing.

Every now and then, Laura and I exchanged questions. Nothing direct. Nothing obvious.

But sometimes they felt dangerously personal.

At one point, she started asking about the cabin - When I bought it. Why I bought it. What it meant to me.

I answered briefly. Carefully. I had no intention of sharing the real s********e things were mine. Some doors stayed closed. She didn't need to know everything.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But while I kept my secrets, I learned quite a lot about her.

Apparently, Laura loved books. A lot. And unsurprisingly… Romance novels. Of course. The more I learned about her, the more everything started making sense.

Laura genuinely believed in love. Not the practical version. Not the realistic version. The fairy tale version. The kind where people fall in love at first sight. Where passion solves everything. Where soulmates exist. Where promises last forever.

Part of me wanted to warn her. To tell her life didn't work that way. Love wasn't real. At least not in my experience.

People lied. People betrayed each other. People disappointed you. That kind of love only existed in books. Movies. And fairy tales.

Nowhere else.

The second surprise was her taste in music. That one genuinely shocked me. She liked heavy music. Really heavy music. It didn't fit her at all. At least not the version of her I'd imagined.

When I asked why, she looked at me like the answer was obvious.

"The lyrics are more honest.” Then she shrugged. "Deeper too."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I simply filed it away with everything else I was learning about her.

Another piece of the puzzle. Another contradiction. Another reason she was impossible to figure out.

I barely remember the drive home.

Maybe we were all tired. Maybe none of us wanted the weekend to end. The car was unusually quiet.

Ellia spent most of the drive reading a book she apparently needed to finish for school. Markus listened to music while staring out the window.

And Laura...

Laura simply watched the scenery pass by. Lost in thought. Like she was trying to process everything that had happened over the last two days.

Honestly?

So was I.

When we finally arrived home, reality came rushing back.

The cabin had given me breathing room. A temporary escape. But now we were back. Back to the plan. Back to my grandmother. Back to the lies. Back to the chaos.

Still...

The weekend had helped. A little.

Enough that I felt ready to face whatever disaster came next. Or at least I thought I was.

Was I really ready?

Laura and the children headed upstairs. I went straight to my office. I wanted to check my schedule. Review next week's meetings. Figure out where I could squeeze in whatever fresh catastrophe my father would inevitably throw at me.

Because if there was one thing I knew about my father… It was that he was unpredictable.

I switched on the light and looked around. I hadn't spent much time in this room lately. Whenever I was avoiding Laura, I stayed at the office. And when I wasn't at the office, I usually found another excuse to disappear.

I walked toward my desk.

Then stopped.

Completely.

On the desk sat a familiar box.

Beside it...

The marriage certificate.

My stomach dropped. Slowly, I reached for the box and opened it. The rings were still inside. Waiting.

Silent.

Real.

No.

No, I wasn't ready for that.

Not even close.

I stared at them far longer than I should have. Then leaned back in my chair and rubbed a hand across my face.

A terrible thought crossed my mind.

Maybe it would've been better if we'd stayed at the cabin.

Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come back at all.