All Chapters of Intricacies of the heart: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

He glanced over at me once. Twice. A third time. By the fourth, I felt my shoulders tense. Finally he set down the toy soldier he was holding and said quietly,“Alright. Come here.” It wasn’t a command. More like an invitation he already knew I needed.I walked over slowly, my palms warm, my throat tight. He pulled out one of the dining chairs and waited until I sat. Then he took the seat beside me, not across, not standing over me, right beside me, knees touching. He angled his body toward mine.“Something’s off,” he said softly. Not accusing. Not annoyed. Just… concerned. I forced a small smile. “I’m fine.” He exhaled through his nose, amused in that way he gets when he knows I’m lying badly.“You’re the worst liar on earth,” he murmured.My laugh came out strained. I tried again, “I promise—”“is it the kids? Is it all too much?” I looked at his face. The tiny crease between his brows, The warmth in his eyes, he was worried. And somehow that made the tightness in my chest sharp

Lou Mitchell’s on a Sunday morning felt like stepping into a living postcard, the clatter of utensils, the hum of conversations, that warm, buttery smell that curls around you the second you walk in. Crest had asked the nanny to stay behind. He greeted the host by name, which didn’t surprise me. Coming here was part of their family’s tradition. The kids bounced in ahead of us already familiar with the place.Ethan practically hopping, Ivan walking with unbothered poise. We slid into a booth, Ethan immediately slid in beside me, because apparently I’d been promoted to “favorite person who lets him steal strawberries off her plate.” Ivan took the spot next to Crest. The waitress came for our order, smiling brightly at Crest, giving the kids a high five and addressing them by their names. “I want the giant pancake.” Ethan declared.“The one the size of your face?” The waitress teased.“Yes. And her face too.” He said, pointing at me. I chucked. She gave me a once-over before finalizing

It was almost evening when we started packing up. The kids were flushed and wind-mussed, dragging their feet in that dramatic I’m-tired-but-will-deny-it way children do. Ivan slipped his hand into mine without looking, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Ethan chattered nonstop about how he wanted to come back next weekend and fly “a dragon kite, not a turtle, a REAL dragon.” Crest lifted the kite bag into the trunk, then glanced at me over the car roof.That quiet, lingering smile again, the kind that said today mattered to him. More than he knew how to say out loud. I smiled back, but somewhere under the warm buzz of the day, a small knot pulsed at the edge of my thoughts. Earlier at breakfast, After Ivan had casually mentioned their maternal grandmother, realization had hit me, I knew almost nothing about Crest’s family, nothing real, just fragments. A vague mention here, a sidestep there. The kids talked about their grandmother like she was present, familiar. Love

I wanted to force it down but the thought pulsed in the back of my mind like a bruise I hadn’t noticed until someone touched it. If I belong in his life…why am I still standing outside parts of it? His arms came around me, my body reacted before I could form a lie. I pulled back, just enough that his hands slipped from my waist, enough that his brows pinched in quiet confusion. I couldn’t pretend. Not in this moment. “Hey,” he said softly, searching my face. I shook my head, but it wasn’t denial, it was an attempt to shake off the pressure tightening behind my ribs, the swirl of emotions I didn’t know how to word without sounding ridiculous. Without sounding jealous, or excluded, or… small.But it was too late. The truth had already lodged in my throat like a stone. Because I couldn’t pretend nothing inside me broke a little when he told me about this dinner. Because I didn’t know his friends. Because I wasn’t invited. Because he’d been hosted in this kind of gathering severally, l

Crest had left early, earlier than usual. A soft kiss pressed to my forehead before I fully woke. I remembered the weight of his hand brushing my hair back, the faint whisper, “I’ll be home by midnight. I promise.” Even half asleep, the words had settled somewhere fragile inside me. A folded note sat on the nightstand in his handwriting."Have an early prep meeting. I’ll be home by midnight, I promise. Love you."He must have thought I’d been deep in sleep when he whispered it to me. It shouldn’t have meant as much as it did, but I read it twice anyway, tracing the lines with my thumb. That word, promise, felt like someone had wired it directly into my nerves. I tried to be myself. To get up, shower, dress, put earrings on. But everything felt… detached. Like I was watching myself from a few feet outside my own body. At the restaurant, Monica took one look at me and groaned.“You look too calm,” she said. “Which means something is wrong.”“I’m fine,” I lied, because I didn’t trust t