Noah's POV
I woke up before the sun and felt a small, stupid spark of hope—maybe I'd see Olivia again in the kitchen. I tiptoed out of my room and down the hall. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every tiny sound louder. But the kitchen was empty. No Olivia, no clatter of pans, nothing.
For a second, the quiet felt like a hollow ache. I sat on the couch and stared at the bedroom door across the living room. I knew what had happened the day before. That kiss wasn't the kind you forget. It was a match struck on dry wood—sudden and bright. My chest kept going back to that moment like a replay I couldn't stop.
Maybe I was getting ahead of myself. Maybe I was thinking too much. But the feeling wouldn't go away. The spark was still there, faint but alive, and it ate at me until I couldn't just go back to bed.
So I stayed on the couch and watched the bedroom door. I watched the clock, the way the minute hand moved, and the sliver of light that grew at the edges of the curtains. I told myself I wasn't being creepy—just waiting. Waiting to see if something real might come out of what had happened.
The house slowly shifted from night to early morning. I was cold, and the lights were dim. I tried to focus on anything else—the hum of the fridge, the picture frames on the wall—but my eyes kept drifting back to that door.
Time moved in small, slow bites. Then, at exactly 5:30, the door opened.
She came out. Hair messy, eyes half-closed, stretching her arms above her head. For a second, she looked like she belonged in a different world—soft and private—and both of us looked surprised to see each other.
She walked toward the couch, bent over, and peered at my face like she needed proof that I was really there. I couldn't help laughing softly. "Morning," I said.
She blinked and gave me a mild glare. "Don't scare people. What are you doing up so early?"
I shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."
She sniffed. "Of all places to be awake—this is not the point of coming to Wrenford. You're supposed to rest. Sleep as you've never slept before. And here you are, up earlier than the homeowners."
I laughed. "I guess I missed the part of the brochure that said 'no early risers on the couch.'"
She rolled her eyes but didn't smile. Instead, she turned and walked to the kitchen. "Go back to bed," she muttered without looking at me.
Olivia's POV
I went to the kitchen and put a pot on the stove for tea. While the water warmed, I grabbed a basket of vegetables and dumped them into the sink so I could wash them. I kept talking as I worked, half scolding him, because that was what I did when I was worried and didn't know how to say anything softer.
"You're supposed to be resting, Noah," I scolded. "If you're not careful, you'll go home more tired than when you came."
He laughed—this one quiet, surprised laugh—and I kept washing. The sound of the water, the steam from the kettle, and the quiet kitchen made the moment small and safe.
Then he came up behind me and grabbed my hands while the tap was still running. For a moment, I felt nothing but the cold water wrapping around my fingers. Then he gently took my hands and lifted them, searching for a towel. He dried them slowly, like he was careful not to rush anything.
"Let me do it," he said, voice soft.
I tried to pull away lightly. "It's fine. I'll just turn on the heater."
He smiled, half serious, half teasing. "Your hands shouldn't look all wrinkly and cold. You've got nice hands. I'm not letting them turn into prunes."
I laughed at that. He tightened his grip a little, and I felt something like heat move through my chest. I tried to pull my hands free, but he held them tighter, watching my face like he wanted to memorize it.
Then the bedroom door opened, and Adrian appeared. He stood in the doorway, still buttoning his shirt. Noah and I froze like someone turned off the music mid-song.
Adrian's eyes narrowed a little. "Everything okay?" he asked.
Noah cleared his throat and set my hands down like they were delicate objects. "All good. Just making tea."
I forced a smile and tried to move away so it wouldn't look awkward. "Yes. Tea. For everyone."
Adrian watched us for a moment, then shrugged and said, "Alright. I'll be out back if you need me." He left, closing the door softly behind him.
As soon as the door shut, the silence returned, but it felt different now—thicker, and full of things we weren't saying.
Noah looked at me with a face I couldn't quite read. I then remembered the kiss and the way he'd held me yesterday.
He folded his hands on the counter and stared at them for a second. "I know it was wrong, and I'm sorry if it made things weird."
I felt the ground under me tilt. "Why tell me now?" I asked. "Why after—
—after everything?"
He swallowed. "Because waiting felt worse. Because I was tired of pretending nothing was there. Because I wanted you to hear it from me instead of keeping a secret that kept burning."
I leaned on the counter, watching him. He looked small and honest all at once, and I couldn't find an answer that wouldn't hurt someone.
"Do you think it will change anything?" I asked finally.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe it will. Or maybe it won't. I just… needed you to know I felt something real."
I opened my mouth to say something kinder than the truth. Before the words came out, he added, "I don't want to ruin anything between you and Adrian. I would never try to make you choose."
That made my mouth close. I wanted to believe him. I also wanted to be careful of my own heart. "I appreciate that," I said softly.
Noah stepped a little closer. "You were scared yesterday," he said, voice low. "I could tell when you pulled away at first. But then… You didn't. And I know it was complicated. I don't expect anything."
"I can't promise you anything," I answered, looking down at my hands, the towel bunched between my fingers. "But I won't pretend nothing happened either. It was real for me. It was confusing, but it was real."
He let out a small sound that was almost a laugh. "That's all I wanted to hear. Not promises. Just… real."
We stood there, the kettle starting to sing softly, the morning light growing warmer through the window. The kitchen felt ordinary and new at the same time, like a page that had a sentence erased and a new one written over it.
"Make that tea," Noah said after a pause, trying for a brighter tone. "I'll take care of these vegetables."
I handed him the knife and the cutting board and watched him set to work with a concentration that made his face look less guarded. As he sliced the carrots, he glanced up at me and smiled, small and honest.