Chapter 21
748 Words
Unraveling Threads
Anna had never known silence could feel so loud.
The gentle beeping of the monitor, the distant creak of the mansion’s old pipes, even the soft rustle of wind against the windowpane—all of it pressed in on her as she sat by Noah’s bedside. It had been two days since his condition stabilized, but his mind had yet to fully clear. His memory remained a puzzle, jagged pieces scattered across time.
But tonight, something was different.
Noah stirred, his brow furrowed as if chasing a dream—or fleeing one.
“Noah,” Anna whispered, reaching for his hand.
His eyes opened slowly, searching the room before landing on her. “You’re still here,” he said, voice rough.
“Of course,” she replied, brushing his hair from his forehead. “I said I wouldn’t leave.”
His gaze lingered on her face. “You used to hum… that jazz song. When you were stressed. You always stood by the window.”
Anna froze.
It wasn’t much—but it was something.
“You remembered that?” she asked gently.
He nodded slowly. “I didn’t even know I remembered it until now… I just saw you there, your back to me, your fingers twitching like you wanted to scream, but all you did was hum.”
Anna laughed softly, her voice breaking. “That was my way of not falling apart.”
Noah gave a weak smile. “You were always stronger than me.”
A silence fell between them—thick, weighty, filled with the ghosts of the past.
“Do you remember the night we got into our worst fight?” Anna asked suddenly.
Noah’s brow furrowed again. “Not fully. Just... yelling. I was angry. And you—” He paused. “You were crying. You never cry.”
“I did that night,” she said. “Because I realized loving you wasn’t enough anymore.”
He turned his face away. “And I never deserved you.”
---
Downstairs, the scene was nothing like the tender sorrow upstairs.
Juliet Carter stood in the parlor, swirling her wine glass with slow, deliberate grace. The fire crackled behind her, casting shadows on her sharp features. Isabella sat on the edge of a velvet armchair, tense, eyes flickering toward the ceiling.
“She’s still here,” Isabella muttered. “Anna.”
“She’s stubborn,” Juliet replied coldly. “And foolish.”
“She’s a problem.”
Juliet took a sip of her wine, then set the glass down. “She’s always been a problem. I warned Noah the day he brought her home that she’d ruin him. But did he listen?”
“No,” Isabella spat bitterly. “He let her destroy everything.”
Juliet stepped forward, heels echoing ominously. “We need to handle this. Before he starts asking questions.”
Isabella looked at her. “Do you think he’s close?”
“He remembered something tonight. A small thing, but it’s starting,” Juliet said, her voice low. “And you know what happens when the rest comes back.”
Isabella’s voice turned urgent. “Then what do we do?”
Juliet’s smile was bitter and laced with venom. “We do what we should’ve done years ago—we make sure Anna stays out of his life. For good.”
---
Upstairs, Noah’s head rested back on the pillows. He was tired again, but his eyes didn’t close.
“Anna,” he murmured.
“Yes?”
“Why… didn’t I fight for you?”
She looked away, jaw trembling. “Because you were too busy lying to me. Hiding. Hurting me.”
He closed his eyes, guilt settling in his chest like stone.
“I want to fix it,” he said faintly.
“It’s been four years, Noah,” Anna said. “You can’t just fix that.”
“I’ll try.”
Anna stood, backing away slightly, swallowing the emotion swelling inside her. “You once promised you’d never hurt me. You broke that promise. Over and over.”
“I know.”
“You don’t. Not yet.”
She turned to leave, needing air, space, anything but this.
But just as her hand touched the doorknob, he spoke again.
“I loved you. Even when I didn’t deserve to.”
And behind the door, just out of sight, Juliet listened—her lips pressed into a line, her eyes burning with quiet rage.
- Writer
