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หน้าหลัก / Fantasy / Loving Mr. Vance in Silence / บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

บททั้งหมดของ Loving Mr. Vance in Silence: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

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The Purpose

The idea came to Emma in the middle of the night.She was lying in bed, unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. Nick was beside her, his breathing slow and steady, his arm draped across her waist. The city was quiet. The room was dark.She had been thinking about the argument. About the way Nick had said "You don't understand." About the way she had responded — not with anger, not with fear, but with something steadier.She had been thinking about what came next.Not for Nick. For her.---At 2:00 AM, she slipped out of bed.She walked to the living room, wrapped in Nick's sweater, and sat on the couch. Her laptop was on the coffee table. She opened it.The screen glowed blue in the darkness.She typed: "How to start a business."Then she stared at the search results for a long time.---At 7:00 AM, Nick found her on the couch.She was still in his sweater, her hair a mess, her laptop balanced on her knees. She had been reading for five hours."You didn't sleep," Nick said."I slept.
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Brotherhood

The invitation came from Daniel.Not a text. Not a call. An actual invitation, printed on heavy cream paper, delivered by hand to Nick's penthouse.You and Emma. Dinner. Saturday. 7 PM. My place. Don't be late.Nick stared at the card. "He printed invitations."Emma took it from his hands. "It's beautiful.""He's trying too hard.""He's trying to be nice."Nick sighed. "I know. That's what worries me."---Saturday arrived cold and clear.Emma stood in front of Nick's closet, watching him choose a suit. He had tried on four already."The gray," Emma said."The gray is too casual.""It's dinner at your brother's apartment. Not a board meeting."Nick held up a blue sweater. "This?""That's better."He pulled on the sweater — soft, navy, fitted. Emma's breath caught."What?" Nick asked."Nothing. You just... look good.""I always look good.""You're also humble.""I'm learning."He kissed her. Then they walked out the door.---Daniel's apartment was on the floor below Nick's.Same build
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The Response

The email came on a Tuesday.Emma was sitting on the couch, reading a book, when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. The subject line made her heart stop.Volunteer Opportunity — Response to Your InquiryShe stared at it for a long moment."What's wrong?" Nick asked. He was at the kitchen counter, making coffee."I got a response.""To what?""My email. The non-profit."Nick set down the coffee pot. He walked to the couch and sat beside her."Open it," he said.Emma's hands were shaking. "What if they say no?""Then you try somewhere else.""What if they say yes?""Then you start."Emma took a breath. She opened the email.---Dear Emma,Thank you for reaching out. Your story is incredibly moving, and we would be honored to have you as a volunteer. We believe that survivors of trauma have a unique perspective that can help others who are still struggling.We are hosting an orientation session this Thursday at 6:00 PM. Please let us know if you can attend.With hope,Margaret
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The Living Arrangement

The conversation started with a toothbrush.Emma was in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. Nick was already under the covers, waiting for her. She had been staying at his penthouse for over a month now — her toothbrush in his holder, her shampoo in his shower, her books on his nightstand.But she still had her apartment. Her own keys. Her own bed.Nick had been thinking about it for weeks."Emma," he said when she climbed into bed."Hmm?""We need to talk."Emma turned to face him. The lamp on the nightstand cast soft shadows across his face."That sounds serious.""It is." He took a breath. "You've been here for five weeks.""I know.""Your toothbrush is in my bathroom.""I know.""Your books are on my nightstand.""I know."Nick looked at her. "You live here, Emma."Emma was quiet for a moment. "I know.""Then why won't you say it?""Say what?""That you live here. That this is your home. That you're not just staying — you're staying."Emma sat up. She pulled the blanket around he
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The Training

Emma's first day of training fell on a Tuesday.She woke before dawn, her stomach full of nerves, her mind racing through every possible thing that could go wrong. Nick was still asleep beside her, his arm draped across her waist, his breathing slow and steady.She lay there for a while, listening to him breathe.This is my life now, she thought. This is the life I chose.She slipped out of bed and walked to the bathroom. The blue dress — the one Eleanor had helped her pick — was hanging on the back of the door. Simple. Professional. Safe.She showered. She dressed. She looked in the mirror.The woman staring back at her was nervous but ready.Nick appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes."You're up early," he said."I couldn't sleep.""You're nervous.""I'm terrified."Nick walked to her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind."You're going to be amazing," he said."You don't know that.""I know you."Emma leaned back against his chest. "What if I freeze?""Then you freeze. An
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Adjustment

The first week of Emma's training changed everything.Not dramatically — not with fireworks or grand gestures. The change was quiet, creeping in like morning light through a curtain. Emma left the penthouse at 8:00 AM and returned at 5:00 PM. She came home tired but alive, her notebook full of scribbled insights, her mind full of stories that weren't hers.Nick was happy for her.He was.But he was also struggling.---The struggle started small.On Tuesday, Emma forgot to make coffee. Nick stood in the kitchen at 7:30 AM, staring at the empty pot, realizing he didn't know how to work the machine. Emma had always made the coffee. Even when she was his assistant, even when she was just staying over, even when she was exhausted — she made the coffee.He figured it out eventually. But the coffee was too strong. Too bitter. He drank it anyway.On Wednesday, he found himself standing in her closet — the one she had taken over in the penthouse, the one that used to be empty. Her clothes hun
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This is Love

The call came on a Monday.Emma was in the kitchen, making coffee — the right way, the way Nick liked it. Her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen.Margaret Chen: We have a survivor who requested you. One-on-one. Thursday at 2:00 PM. Are you ready?Emma stared at the message.Requested you.Someone she had never met. Someone who had heard her story. Someone who wanted her help.Her hands were shaking."Nick," she called.He appeared in the doorway, still in his pajamas, his hair a mess. "What's wrong?""Nothing's wrong." She held up the phone. "I have my first session."Nick crossed the room. He read the message over her shoulder."Thursday at 2:00," he said."Yes.""Are you ready?"Emma took a breath. "I don't know."Nick took the phone from her hands and set it on the counter. He wrapped his arms around her."You're ready," he said."How do you know?""Because you've been ready your whole life. You just didn't know it."Emma buried her face in his chest."What if I
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Turning Point

Therapy had become routine.Every Friday at 10:00 AM, Nick sat on Dr. Chen's couch. He talked about his week — the small victories, the quiet struggles, the moments when he felt like he was making progress and the moments when he felt like he was standing still.But this Friday was different.This Friday, something cracked open.---Nick arrived early.Dr. Chen was at her desk, reviewing notes. She looked up when he walked in."You're early," she said."The traffic was light.""You've never been early before."Nick sat on the couch. He didn't recline. He sat on the edge, his hands clasped between his knees, his back straight."I've been thinking," he said."About what?""About the basement. About Emma. About who I am now."Dr. Chen set down her pen. "Tell me."Nick stared at the painting of the boat. He still hated it. But today, he understood something about it that he hadn't before."The boat is leaving," he said.Dr. Chen glanced at the painting. "Yes.""I used to think it was leav
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The Dinner

The invitation came from Emma.Not a text. Not a call. She asked Nick in person, sitting on the couch, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea."I want you to meet Rachel," Emma said.Nick looked up from his book. "Rachel?""The woman from Healing Hearts. The one I've been meeting with."Nick set down his book. "You want me to meet her?""I want her to meet you. I think it would help her.""Help her how?"Emma was quiet for a moment. "She doesn't believe that happy endings exist. She doesn't believe that people like us — survivors — can find love. Can be normal. Can be happy."Nick took her hand. "And you want to prove her wrong.""I want to show her that it's possible."Nick lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles."Then let's have dinner," he said.---Saturday arrived cold and clear.Emma spent the morning cleaning the penthouse — not because it was dirty, but because she needed something to do with her hands. Nick watched her from the couch."She's not going to inspect t
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The Wedding Day

The wedding was supposed to be simple.That was Olivia's word. Simple. She had repeated it so many times that Emma had started to believe her. But as Emma stood in the bridal suite, staring at her sister's reflection, she realized that nothing about this day was simple.Olivia was wearing a white dress — lace and silk, fitted and flowing, the kind of dress that made everyone who saw it cry. Her hair was swept up in an elegant twist. Her veil was long and sheer and caught the light like morning mist."You look beautiful," Emma said.Olivia's eyes filled with tears. "Don't make me cry. I just did my makeup.""You look beautiful and your makeup is perfect."Olivia laughed — a wet, shaky laugh. "I'm getting married.""You're getting married.""In two hours.""In two hours."Olivia took Emma's hands. "Thank you. For everything."Emma's throat tightened. "I didn't do anything.""You survived. You came back. You're here." Olivia squeezed her hands. "That's everything."Emma pulled her sister
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