The last day’s of Mr Andrew

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 13

Andrew woke before sunrise.

There was no coughing this time, only a heavy, quiet awareness in his chest, as though his body had begun keeping account of every battle he asked it to fight.

He stared at the ceiling for a long while before slowly pushing himself upright.

Across the room, Nancy slept in the armchair, her head tilted slightly to one side, a blanket draped over her. Andrew frowned.

“You stayed,” he muttered.

Nancy stirred. “Mm. You told me to.”

“I didn’t tell you to sleep there.”

“You didn’t tell me to leave either,” she said, still half-asleep.

Andrew opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Go home,” he said instead.

Now she opened her eyes. “Good morning to you too.”

“You’ve been here all night.”

“Yes.”

“You need rest.”

Nancy sat up and stretched her shoulders. “I’ll rest later. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

She gave him a look. “We’re not doing that today.”

“…I’m functional,” he corrected.

“Better.” She stood. “Sit. I’ll get breakfast.”

“I can get my own breakfast.”

“Sure,” she said lightly, “after you pass out halfway to the kitchen.”

Andrew exhaled through his nose. “…You’re irritating in the morning.”

“And you’re very alive,” she said. “Let’s keep it that way.”

By midmorning, Andrew was dressed.

Suit. Watch. Composed.

As if nothing had changed.

Nancy entered the living room and stopped when she saw him. “What are you doing?”

“Going to work.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

Nancy folded her arms. “Dr. Cole said rest.”

“Dr. Cole is not in charge of my company.”

“You can barely get through breakfast without losing energy.”

“I’m not staying here all day doing nothing.”

Nancy stepped closer. “Resting is not nothing.”

“It is to me.”

“And collapsing at the office is better?”

His jaw tightened. “…I won’t collapse.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“You don’t,” she said firmly. “And I’m not letting you push yourself like that today.”

Andrew looked at her then—really looked.

“…You think you can stop me?”

Nancy didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

A pause.

Then Andrew almost smiled.

“…That’s new.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

They stood there, neither backing down.

Then the door opened.

“Wow,” Victoria’s voice said, amused. “Did I walk into a domestic argument?”

Nancy stepped back slightly.

Andrew didn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

Victoria walked in, sunglasses still on, handbag over her shoulder. “Good morning to you too.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I came to see my brother,” she said. “Is that allowed?”

Andrew exhaled. “…You have a home. A husband. Children.”

“And I still have you,” she replied. “Don’t make that sound like a burden.”

Nancy said nothing, but her eyes moved between them as Victoria took in the scene.

“…You were leaving,” Victoria noted, looking at Andrew’s suit.

“He’s not,” Nancy said immediately.

Andrew glanced at her. “I didn’t ask for backup.”

“You don’t need to,” she muttered.

Victoria raised a brow. “I like her.”

Andrew ignored them both. “I have a meeting.”

“No, you don’t,” Victoria said calmly.

He looked at her. “…Excuse me?”

“You cancelled it this morning.” She lifted her phone. “Or rather, I did.”

Nancy blinked. “You what?”

Andrew’s expression darkened. “You had no right.”

“I had every right,” Victoria said. “You’re sick, Andrew. Not invincible.”

“I’m still in control of my company.”

“And you’re losing control of your health,” she shot back.

Silence.

Nancy stepped in carefully. “He just got back from the hospital yesterday. He needs—”

“I know what he needs,” Victoria said, softer now. “I’ve known him longer than you.”

Nancy held her gaze. “…Then help me make him listen.”

Victoria looked at her for a moment, then sighed.

“Andrew,” she said, turning back to him, “sit down.”

“No.”

“Sit down.”

“I said no.”

Victoria moved closer, lowering her voice. “…You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened.

“I’m not trying to prove anything.”

“Then why are you dressed like you’re about to run a marathon in a burning building?”

Nancy let out a small laugh she couldn’t quite stop.

Andrew shot her a look.

Victoria smirked. “See? Even she knows.”

“…I’m surrounded,” Andrew muttered.

“Yes,” Nancy said. “You are.”

“And we’re not leaving,” Victoria added.

Another pause.

Then slowly, Andrew took off his watch and set it on the table.

“…Fine.”

Nancy blinked. “That was easier than I expected.”

Victoria smiled slightly. “He listens. Just not immediately.”

“I don’t listen,” Andrew muttered, sitting down anyway.

“You do,” Nancy said. “You just pretend you don’t.”

Later that afternoon, the tension had softened.

Victoria sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

Nancy was in the kitchen.

Andrew sat in his armchair, quieter than usual.

“How are the kids?” he asked suddenly.

Victoria looked up, surprised.

“They’re good,” she said. “Ethan started asking questions about you.”

Andrew’s expression shifted slightly. “…What kind of questions?”

“Why you don’t visit. Why you’re always busy.”

He looked away. “…I’ve been occupied.”

Victoria nodded. “I know.”

A pause followed.

“You should come over sometime,” she said. “They’d like that.”

Andrew didn’t answer at once.

Nancy watched from the kitchen.

“…Maybe,” he said finally.

Victoria smiled faintly. “That’s progress.”

Evening came slowly.

Victoria stood by the door. “I should get back.”

Nancy nodded. “Drive safe.”

Victoria looked at her. “Take care of him.”

Nancy smiled softly. “I plan to.”

Victoria turned to Andrew. “…Call me if you need anything.”

“I won’t.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’ll call you.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

When she left, the penthouse felt quieter.

Not empty.

Just calm.

Nancy walked into the room a little later. “You did good today.”

Andrew lifted a brow. “…I stayed home.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s your definition of success?”

“For you? Yes.”

He exhaled softly.

“Stay again,” he said.

Nancy paused.

“…Okay.”

And this time, it didn’t feel like obligation.

It felt like choice.

As night settled over the city, Andrew stood by the window for a while, looking out at the lights below. For once, the silence didn’t feel oppressive. It felt steady.

Nancy moved through the kitchen behind him, her steps easy, her presence familiar. He should have wanted space. He should have felt the old instinct to retreat.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let the silence remain.

“What are you thinking about?” Nancy asked after a while.

Andrew glanced at her. “Whether I’ll regret this tomorrow.”

“Regret what?”

“Spending an evening with you.”

She smirked. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re persistent.”

“I have to be,” she said. “Otherwise you’d drown in your own stubbornness.”

He watched her for a moment, then finally asked the question he had been carrying all day.

“Nancy…”

“Yes?”

“Why do you stay?”

The question changed the air between them.

She set the mug she’d been holding onto the counter and turned fully toward him.

“Because it’s hard to ignore what’s right in front of you,” she said. “There’s more to you than this façade.”

He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not just the cold billionaire. You have a history. Regrets. Hopes. Fears.” Her voice remained steady. “You just hide them well.”

Andrew felt the force of her honesty like a hand pressed to his chest.

“And that’s what you find compelling?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. It’s what makes you real.”

He said nothing.

“Your pain is real,” she continued. “Your fear is real. And it’s okay.”

Something old and tight twisted inside him.

“I don’t want pity,” he said at last.

“It’s not pity.” Her expression softened. “I’m not here to save you. I’m here because I choose to be.”

The silence between them deepened.

Andrew took a step toward her, then another. Nancy didn’t move. The distance that had always seemed natural between them suddenly felt fragile, like something waiting to break.

“You make it hard to pretend,” he said quietly.

Her breath caught.

“You’re not pretending,” she said. “Not anymore.”

He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

The gesture was small.

It changed everything.

“I don’t have time for this,” he whispered, though the words sounded more like surrender than refusal.

“Yes, you do,” she said softly. “You always did.”

For once, Andrew didn’t retreat.

He leaned into the warmth she offered, just slightly, as if testing whether it would vanish.

It didn’t.

And in that fragile, unsettled moment, he allowed himself the dangerous luxury of being seen.