Two Hearts

Maybe the Second Time Will Be Different

Laura POV

Getting back into the car felt strangely awkward. I wasn't sure if it was because Chris had hugged me. Or because I had caught Daniel watching.

He'd tried to hide it, of course. The second he realized I was looking in his direction, his attention immediately dropped to his phone.

But I had seen it. And somehow that bothered me far more than it should have.

What bothered me even more was his sudden change in mood. On the way here he'd been calm. Quiet, yes, but calm.

Now he looked tense. Maybe even angry. Was it because he'd seen Chris hug me? And why would that matter?

Daniel Carter wasn't exactly known for caring about anyone except himself.

Yet the thought refused to leave me alone.

The drive back felt longer than it actually was. The silence inside the car slowly became unbearable.

I found myself staring out the window, watching people walk through the city, carrying shopping bags, talking, laughing, living their ordinary lives.

Meanwhile my own thoughts were a complete disaster.

Every few minutes my mind wandered back to the photoshoot. Back to that moment. That kiss.

I immediately forced myself to think about something else. It didn't work.

Not even a little.

The truth was embarrassing. I couldn't stop thinking about it. And the more I tried, the worse it became.

Maybe because it hadn't felt fake. Maybe because I'd felt something. Or maybe because Daniel had felt something too. At least that's what I kept wondering.

Because if he hadn't...

Why hadn't he pulled away sooner? Why had he looked at me like that afterward? Or had I imagined it?

I sighed quietly.

No.

I was overthinking everything. That had to be it. It was one kiss. One photograph. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Then why couldn't I stop replaying every second of it? The scent of his cologne. The warmth of his hand on my waist. The way everything around us seemed to disappear for a moment.

Stop it, I mentally scolded myself. This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

When we finally arrived home, the silence became even worse. Because now the children were gone.

The house felt enormous. Empty. Too quiet.

Normally Ellia would be running up the stairs. Markus would be asking a hundred questions. Someone would be looking for shoes. Or a charger. Or a missing school notebook.

Something was always happening.

But now...

Nothing.

The front door closed behind us and complete silence settled over the house. I stood there for a moment longer than necessary. Listening. Almost expecting to hear them.

But I didn't.

And suddenly I understood why divorced parents struggled with shared custody. The house didn't feel peaceful. It felt incomplete.

I glanced toward the staircase. Toward the bedrooms upstairs. Toward the spaces that still carried traces of the children despite their absence.

They would only be gone for two days. So why did it already feel wrong?

I swallowed hard.

Stop it, Laura. They're with their father. They're happy. Everything is fine.

Yet the worry remained. What if this hurt them? What if they pretended they were okay when they weren't?

I'd read enough articles to know how divorce could affect children. Anxiety. Abandonment issues. Trust issues. Trauma.

The words had haunted me for weeks. I only hoped I wasn't making a mistake they would carry for the rest of their lives.

Without really thinking about it, I wandered into the kitchen.

I switched on the kettle. Then stood there. Waiting.

For what? I had no idea.

Tea?

Coffee?

Hot chocolate?

I wasn't even thirsty.

After a moment I switched the kettle off again. Then immediately felt ridiculous. What was I doing?

A few seconds later the kitchen door opened. Daniel walked in. And for some reason I instantly grabbed a cloth and started wiping an already spotless countertop.

Because standing in the middle of the kitchen doing absolutely nothing somehow felt even more embarrassing.

Daniel headed straight for the refrigerator. Opened it. Stared inside. Closed it. Then stood there.

Thinking.

A minute later he opened it again. And still didn't take anything.

I nearly laughed.

We were both behaving like complete idiots. Neither of us knew what to do with ourselves. Neither of us knew what to say.

The silence stretched between us. Heavy. Awkward. Uncomfortable.

I kept waiting for him to say something. Anything.

A comment. A question. An explanation.

Instead he poured himself a glass of water. Drank half of it. Then simply stood there.

And somehow that was even worse. Because it felt like we both had something to say. Something important. But neither of us knew how to begin. Or maybe we were both too afraid to try.

Eventually I gave up.

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned toward the door and headed for the stairs. If we were going to continue pretending yesterday hadn't happened, then maybe it was better to hide upstairs.

At least there I could be embarrassed in private.

I had just placed my foot on the first step when his voice stopped me.

"Laura."

I froze. Then slowly turned around.

Daniel had stepped out of the kitchen. For a second I simply stared at him.

And for the first time since I'd met him, he didn't look confident. The realization caught me completely off guard.

No.

That couldn't be right. Daniel Carter was never uncertain. The man could probably convince a bank to give him money and then thank him for taking it.

Yet right now...

He looked like he was choosing every word carefully.

"Yes?" I asked quietly.

For a moment he didn't answer.

The silence stretched.

And somehow my heart started beating faster.

Then he finally spoke.

"Come with me."

I blinked.

"What?"

Another pause.

Longer this time.

As if he was arguing with himself. As if he wasn't entirely sure he should be saying any of this.

"The cabin."

The words hit me harder than I expected. The cabin - Why?

Why did he want to take me there again? Why did he keep bringing me to the one place nobody else was allowed to go? What did that place mean to him?

And why did I suddenly care so much?

"Why?" I asked.

Because that was the only question that mattered. I wanted an answer. A real answer. Not one of Daniel's vague half-truths. I wanted to understand what was happening inside his head.

For once.

My first instinct was to say no. Absolutely not.

I couldn't go. Shouldn't go. It was a terrible idea.

But the truth was far more complicated. Because part of me wanted to go. Maybe that was what scared me most. Maybe I was afraid of feeling that peace again. Afraid of sitting beside him with a cup of tea while watching the ocean.

Afraid of feeling comfortable. Afraid of discovering that the cabin meant something to me too.

Daniel remained silent for so long I thought he wasn't going to answer. I was already turning back toward the stairs when he finally spoke.

"Either now or never."

I stopped.

His voice was quiet. But firm.

"If we stay here, we're just going to keep pretending nothing happened."

The words stole every response I had prepared. Because we both knew exactly what he meant. And neither of us had been brave enough to say it out loud.

I don't remember what I answered.

Maybe I said yes. Maybe I simply nodded. Maybe I was too shocked to do either.

All I know is that five minutes later I was sitting in Daniel's car. Watching the house disappear in the rearview mirror. And I still had absolutely no idea why I had agreed.

Maybe the second trip to the cabin would finally give me answers. Maybe Daniel would finally tell me what he was hiding behind all those walls.

Or maybe...

The second time would only make everything worse.

And somehow that possibility frightened me even more.