CHAPTER 8: To Where?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I didn’t remember falling asleep.

The last thing I remembered was lying on my bed, replaying everything that happened.

But at some point exhaustion must have drowned everything out, because the next sensation I recognized was the feeling of someone gently shaking my shoulder.

“Thea, dear?”

I groaned into my pillow before my brain even processed the voice. It wasn’t Noah. It wasn’t Mr. Gage. It was softer, older, warm in that maternal way only women who ran entire households seemed to have.

When I finally blinked my eyes open, the blurred outline of the housekeeper came into focus. She stood beside my bed holding a small laundry basket, her expression apologetic as if she hated waking people even when it was her job.

“Sorry to disturb you, dear,” she said with a kind smile. “I need to clean your room.”

For a moment I just stared at her, confused. My brain felt thick, heavy, fogged by sleep in a way it never was. I rubbed my eyes and pushed myself up until I was sitting, the blanket still pooled around my waist.

“You can leave it,” I mumbled. “I’ll do it myself later.”

She shook her head immediately. “No, no. You let me do my job. It’s what I’m here for.”

“Really, it’s fine,” I tried again, forcing my voice into something a little more coherent. “I can clean my own…”

“No.” She cut me off with a gentle firmness that reminded me of my old homeroom teacher. “You’re a guest here. Just let me take care of it, hm?”

I sighed softly, too tired to argue, and gave her a tired nod.

She smiled like she’d won a very small battle and stepped around the room, opening curtains, adjusting pillows, straightening the chair in the corner. As light spilled into the room, I winced and lifted a hand to shield my eyes.

That was when something clicked in my brain.

The light looked… wrong.

Too bright.

Too low in the sky.

I glanced toward the clock on my nightstand, expecting to see something reasonable—eight, maybe nine.

Instead, the digits glared back at me.

11:03 AM

I sat up straighter instantly. “What?”

The housekeeper looked over at me, amused. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you sleep in like that.”

I tried to laugh, but it came out more like an awkward choke. I plastered on a tight smile. “Yeah?”

“Usually you’re up at seven latest,” she added, shaking her head as if I had just done something astonishing. “Your whole routine is very strict.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn’t have anything to say. Strict? Routine? Was that how I seemed to others?

Well, it doesn’t matter. I thought, shoving the thought aside.

“I suppose I was just… tired,” I managed.

Her eyes softened knowingly, but thankfully she didn’t pry. “You missed breakfast, but your meal is in the microwave if you want it later.”

“Oh!” she added suddenly. “That reminds me. Noah told me to tell you not to forget you two are going out this afternoon.”

My stomach dropped.

“Oh,” I said quietly.

That.

Right.

That.

He did mention something like that yesterday.

I cleared my throat softly. “What time?”

The housekeeper shrugged. “Didn’t say. Just ‘this afternoon.’ You can ask him when he gets back.”

“When he gets back?” I repeated before I could stop myself.

“Yes,” she said simply. “He went out early this morning.”

To where?

With who?

To meet her?

I clenched my jaw, feeling that familiar sting rise behind my ribs. I didn’t want to care. God, I didn’t. But caring was the only thing my body seemed to remember how to do.

The housekeeper continued her cleaning, humming softly under her breath. I watched her for a moment, grateful for the distraction, grateful for the normalcy she brought into this room that still tasted like last night.

My skin still tingled where he touched me.

My ear still burned where he nibbled.

My knees still felt unreliable when I thought too hard about the way he whispered, Next Time You Won’t Be Able To Leave On Them.

I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to push the memories aside, but they clung stubbornly.

The housekeeper finished fluffing a pillow and turned back to me. “I’ll bring fresh towels later. Anything else you need?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

“Alright then. Breakfast is waiting whenever you’re up. And don’t forget—Noah said not to be late.”

I nodded mechanically, even though my chest tightened at his name.

When she left and closed the door behind her, the silence returned, which wasn’t exactly anything new. I collapsed backward onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling again, the same way I had last night.

But this time, everything felt worse.

Because now morning had come.

And with it—reality.

Reality that I had to see Noah.

Reality that I had to pretend everything was normal.

Reality that I had to go somewhere with him, sit beside him, smile maybe, act like yesterday hadn’t happened.

Act like I didn’t see the proof of another woman’s body burned into his screen.

Act like I hadn’t run straight into another man’s arms less than an hour later.

And not just any man, his father no less.

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes.

What kind of person did that make me?

What kind of person had I become?

And why—why, despite everything—did a traitorous part of me still remember the way Mr. Gage breathed against my ear when he told me to leave?

I rolled onto my side, burying my face in the pillow.

I wasn’t ready for this day.

I wasn’t ready to face any of them.

Letting out a soft groan, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying my best to shake the feeling off, but all that did was trap me deeper inside it.

I was lying on my side, staring blankly at the pillowcase, when a sudden, sharp sound sliced through the silence.

A ring.

Slowly, I rolled over and looked.

It was from Noah’s phone.

For a moment all I did was stare at it. The screen lit up, vibrating gently on the wooden surface.

On the fourth ring, I reached out and picked it up.

“...Hello?” My voice came out small. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hello?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Noah’s voice came through, slightly breathless, sounding distracted in that familiar, careless way of his.

“Oh thank God,” he let out. “I’ve been calling because I couldn’t find my other phone. I didn’t know I left it in your room.”

I swallowed hard, clutching the phone a little too tightly.

“Yeah, it’s… here,” I said quietly.

“Yeah,” he laughed under his breath. “I figured. I tore up the car thinking it was in there. I guess I dropped it when I came to talk to you last night.”

I stared up at the ceiling and let out a slow exhale, trying to keep the storm inside me from spilling into my voice.

“No worries,” I managed to say.

“You sound tired,” he told me. “Did you sleep okay?”

My jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” I lied.

Another silence stretched, awkward and thin.

“Well,” he drawled, “I’m coming back soon. We still have that thing today, remember?”

I didn’t respond.

“Thea?” he asked.

“Yeah. I remember.”

He hummed, satisfied. “Good. I’ll grab my phone when I get home. Don’t leave without it.”

Then, as if we were perfectly fine he ended the call.

I lowered the phone onto the bed beside me and let my hands fall limply onto my stomach.