Life with Seth had fallen into a comfortable rhythm following our wedding. Content, in love, and ready to start our life free from darkness—this was what we were. But Noah's presence still loomed over my head like some dark cloud that refused to dissipate. Even after marrying Seth, there came frequent bouquets of flowers, each bearing a card attached in Noah's handwriting. Those cards had different words, but their meaning remained the same: his longing to see me, that I was supposed to be with him.
We had asked security in detail to prevent anyone from entering the premises without our express permission, and it did the trick for some time at least. The flowers and cards arrived at the gate, where the staff would dump them, preventing them from reaching me. Still, Noah's relentless pursu
