The kitchen’s open layout allowed Sadie a clear view from the sofa. She watched as Noah rolled up his sleeves, exposing his muscular, well-toned forearms.
The way he chopped ingredients was pure artistry-fluid, precise, and nearly enchanting to watch.
Sadie’s thoughts swirled in chaos-she just couldn’t make sense of him. They were on the brink of divorce; why then did Noah continue to perform these thoughtful, intimate acts that only fueled her confusion?
Before she could delve too deep into her thoughts, Noah returned, setting a steaming bowl of clam chowder before her with a gesture that suggested she enjoy it while it was hot.
The enticing aroma of the clam chowder wafted through the air, but to Sadie, it was more of an assault than a comfort, making her stomach twist in revolt. She instinctively clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening as she fought the urge to gag.
Noah’s brow furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.
Sadie shook her head and mustered a feeble smile. “Nothing, just not feeling very hungry,” she responded, hoping her voice sounded convincing enough. She desperately wanted to keep her discomfort hidden from Noah, to mask the turmoil that churned within her.
Noah’s expression softened, though his concern didn’t wane. “Sadie, it’s your own body,” he reminded her gently, his voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and tenderness. “You know about your stomach issues. If you don’t eat on time, you’re the one who’s going to suffer later.”
His words were firm, underscored by a palpable sense of concern that seemed to fill the room.
Sadie felt a sudden pinch at her nose, and before she could stop them, tears began to stream down her cheeks. Memories flooded back-of years ago when she first started working at Noah’s company, of the countless nights spent toiling away, skipping meals in a vain attempt to gain his approval. It was during one of those grueling nights that her neglect had caught up with her, her stomach condition flaring up so severely that she had collapsed and curled in on herself on the floor, pain clouding her vision. In her haze, she vaguely remembered being lifted, carried with a steadiness that had felt strangely comforting at the time.
When she had come to, it was to find Noah by her bedside, his face etched with worry as he gently offered her water and medication.
“It’s your own body. Don’t treat it so poorly.”
Though his tone had been calm at the time, it etched itself into her memory. Those words had spurred her to take better care of herself, ensuring she ate regularly, no matter the circumstances. What once felt comforting now sliced through her, leaving an aching wound.
Noah observed Sadie, who was gazing vacantly at the floor, seemingly lost in a world of her own. Minutes ticked by without a single change in her expression. He knitted his brows, concern slowly morphing into irritation. Just as he was about to confront Sadie, she lurched forward, her movements abrupt as she seized the bowl and scooped a spoonful of clam chowder into her mouth.
The soup’s robust seafood flavor bombarded her senses immediately, too potent for her liking. Her face contorted in disgust as her stomach revolted against the taste. With a swift motion, she set the bowl aside and brushed past Noah, hopping on one foot as she rushed toward the bathroom.
Her fingers dug into the toilet seat as she bent over, vomiting until nothing was left. Noah lingered at the doorway, his initial annoyance fading into a shadow of concern as he watched her trembling form. He stepped closer, tentatively extending a hand to comfort her, but she slapped it away with a weak, yet determined, gesture.
“Sadie…”
“Don’t touch me!” Sadie’s voice was ragged, strained from the force of her retching.
Noah halted, his hand suspended in the air, his features clouding over with a mix of hurt and confusion.
“Let me take you to the hospital,” he hastily suggested.
“No!” The refusal came sharp and instinctive from Sadie as she braced herself against the cool bathroom wall, her arms protectively wrapped around her abdomen. Her eyes, filled with a mix of fear and defiance, locked onto his.
The air between them thickened with unspoken words, and Noah’s suspicions crept back into his mind, the idea that she might be hiding a pregnancy gnawing at him. His eyes narrowed, the weight of his fears and frustrations making his next words heavy and resolute.
“You don’t get to decide this time!”
His voice was unyielding, shutting down any chance of protest. Just as Noah was about to step forward and scoop Sadie up, his phone erupted into a jarring ring. The name “Kyla” flashed urgently across the screen.
Without a second thought, Noah answered. Kyla’s voice, soft and frail, seeped through the receiver.
“Noah… Something feels off with my heart… I think my old condition is flaring up again. Can you come get me and take me to the hospital?” There was a soft, nasal sweetness to Kyla’s voice, making it hard not to feel for her.
Noah’s eyes darted towards Sadie. She sat curled up in the corner, her posture reminiscent of a kitten deprived of safety, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Her pallid face, lips pressed into a thin line, and eyes brimming with unease and defensiveness painted a picture of vulnerability that could soften the hardest heart.
A wave of discomfort washed over Noah, causing his grip on the phone to tighten. He found himself caught in a moment of deep hesitation, torn between two calls for his attention.
Kyla’s voice, threaded with a hint of fragility, broke the silence once again, followed by two soft coughs.
“Well, if it’s too much trouble for you, that’s okay. After all, it’s quite late. I can wait until tomorrow to see a doctor. It’s not urgent.” Her words were polite but carried an unspoken accusation of neglect, wrapped in quiet endurance.
Noah felt as though an invisible fist had clenched around his heart. His earlier hesitation melted away instantly. “I’ll be right there,” he declared, his voice firm, offering no room for doubt.
Hastily, he strode out of the bathroom, the sound of his footsteps fading away, followed by the decisive click of the door closing behind him.
In the now-quiet room, Sadie’s tension unraveled suddenly.
She sat on the cold floor, clutching her stomach tightly.
Although she had anticipated this outcome, a sharp pang of pain still shot through her heart.
In Kyla’s shadow, she felt endlessly sidelined, like nothing more than a disposable object-cherished only when needed, then carelessly cast aside.
Despite it all, she clung to a foolish sliver of hope, hoping that perhaps, one day, her presence might mean more.
With an empty, aching stomach from skipping dinner and earlier bouts of nausea, Sadie managed a rueful grin.
She braced herself against the wall, awkwardly hopping on one foot as she made her way outside.
Determination etched her features. She had to step away from it all-resign, leave Noah, and never look back.
The stiff sofa and biting cold made for a miserable night, forcing her in and out of light, uneasy sleep.
As she languished in a groggy haze, the room seemed to grow colder, hinting at an intrusion.
A draft whispered through the room, and Sadie sensed the presence of someone else. Her eyelids, heavy as lead, fought against her efforts to see who it was.
“Don’t move.” A low, mesmerizing voice brushed against her ear, laced with quiet gentleness.
His large hand rested gently on her forehead, the heat from his touch making his features crease with concern.
With a smooth motion, she was lifted, the refreshing scent of mint enveloping her like a fleeting breeze.
Almost instantly, however, the invasive aroma of medicinal bitterness overwhelmed her senses, pungent and overpowering, making her recoil.
She coughed violently, her body rejecting both the strong smell and the notion of treatment. With a feeble hand, she pushed away the proffered bowl of medicine. “I don’t feel well. I really can’t take this,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Just try,” the man insisted softly, his voice firm yet threaded with concern. His fingers tenderly grasped her chin, coaxing her to face him, his expression unwavering with patience.
“Noah…” she murmured in a daze, her voice trailing off as if clinging to the threads of her fading consciousness.
The man paused mid-motion, a storm of unspoken emotions swirling in his profound gaze.
Eventually, Sadie meekly complied, the bitter medicine coursing down her throat.
As her world blurred into shadows, she felt a gentle pressure as he carefully laid her on the bed, the sheets rustling softly around her.
Even as she drifted off, the room clung to a faint aroma of tobacco-a lingering trace of his presence, mingled with an elusive, comforting reassurance.
Morning light spilled across Sadie’s face as she stirred awake. As her eyes fluttered open, she realized she was resting on a soft bed, the aches in her body now a distant memory.
“Could Noah have returned?” she whispered to herself, pushing herself up against the plush pillows, her mind replaying the fragmented memories of the night before.
That familiar commanding voice, those gentle, searching eyes-could it really have been him?
The mere thought sent a thrill of excitement through her, a tender sweetness blossoming silently in her chest.
A low, insistent buzz filled the air as the phone on the bedside table rattled against the wood, breaking the quiet.
Sadie reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she answered.
On the other end of the line, a warm, motherly voice spoke with gentle concern. “Mrs. Wall, I’ve prepared some chicken soup for you. Be sure to have some once you’re up; it will help you recover faster.”
The voice belonged to Rosa Barrett, the devoted housekeeper who had faithfully served Sadie and Noah for years.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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