Chapter 2 ( Noah and the Quiet night )

The mansion felt different after the visitors arrived—less silent, less heavy.

Because Lily had grown attached to Noah so quickly, she stayed close to him as he wandered through the halls, her eyes following his small figure wherever he went. His laughter echoed against the high ceilings, filling spaces that had long been empty. Without realizing it, Lily found herself smiling more often, her shoulders relaxing in a way they rarely did.

Ethan noticed.

He stayed a few steps back, watching quietly as Lily pointed things out to Noah, listening as he asked endless questions. There was something gentle in the way she spoke to him, something warm that reminded Ethan of who she might have been before the accident—before the fear.

Victoria approached them carefully. “How are you doing?” she asked, her voice kind but cautious, as if afraid to disturb a fragile balance.

Lily hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the armrest of her wheelchair. She glanced at Ethan instinctively, as though grounding herself in his presence before answering.

“I’m doing well,” she said softly.

The words surprised even her.

Later, Noah wandered off on his own, his small footsteps fading into the quiet rooms. The moment Lily realized he was no longer in sight, a sharp worry tightened in her chest.

“Where is he?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.

Ethan was beside her immediately. “It’s okay,” he said calmly. “We’ll find him.”

They searched together, checking room after room, until they finally found Noah crouched behind a sofa, peeking out with wide, curious eyes. Ethan knelt in front of him, lowering himself to the child’s level.

“Noah,” he said gently, “why are you hiding?”

The boy’s face lit up. “I want to stay here,” he said eagerly.

Before anyone could respond, Victoria’s voice came from the hallway. “Noah, come on. Don’t disturb her.”

“No,” Lily said suddenly, firmly—stronger than she had spoken in a long time. “He can stay with us.”

The words hung in the air.

Noah’s face broke into a grin, and he jumped up with excitement. Ethan glanced at Lily, surprised by her decisiveness, but he said nothing. He only nodded.

Later, after Victoria and Robert finally left, the mansion settled into a quieter rhythm once more—though it no longer felt as empty. Ethan helped Lily back to her room, moving slowly, carefully. When he reached the door and turned to leave, she hesitated.

“I’m scared at night,” she admitted quietly. “And Noah is here.”

Ethan didn’t hesitate. “No problem,” he said. “I’ll take the couch.”

Relief flickered across her face, brief but unmistakable.

Not long after, Noah’s small voice echoed down the hallway, calling for his father. Ethan went to him immediately. The moment he sat beside the boy, Noah relaxed, his tiny hand gripping Ethan’s fingers tightly, as though afraid to let go.

“Sleep on the bed with us,” Lily said softly from across the room.

Ethan hesitated. The line between caretaker and something else felt thin in that moment—but Noah was already drifting off, still holding his hand.

“…Alright,” Ethan said quietly.

Night fell slowly.

The room was dark except for moonlight slipping through the curtains. Lily lay close, her breathing uneven, her body tense despite her exhaustion. Ethan stayed awake, listening to every shift, every breath.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she murmured, though her voice trembled.

Time passed in silence. Around midnight, Lily shifted closer, instinctively resting her head against Ethan’s chest. He froze for a moment, then relaxed, careful not to move. He let her stay, let her feel the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath her ear.

Noah slept soundly between them.

The night passed quietly, their breaths mingling in the dark. No words were spoken, but something fragile and unspoken formed in that stillness—trust, comfort, something neither of them was ready to name.

Morning light spilled softly into the room.

“Hey, wake up!” Noah’s cheerful voice rang out.

Lily stirred, realization flooding her face. She pulled back quickly, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “I… I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean… I don’t know why I did that.”

Ethan smiled gently, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s okay. But from now on, we need to be clear. Set boundaries.”

She nodded, though confusion flickered across her expression. Part of her understood. Another part felt an unfamiliar ache at the thought of distance.

Yet beneath the uncertainty, something else had taken root—a subtle trust, a fragile thread linking her to Ethan.

One neither of them fully understood yet.