Chapter 93 Plans for breakfast
Timothy
Hannah cried into my chest for several long minutes.
At first her body trembled so badly I thought she might start gasping again, but gradually the shaking eased. Her sobs softened, fading into quiet hiccups as her breathing slowly evened out.
I kept my arms around her the whole time.
Didn’t rush her.
Didn’t speak.
Just sat there on the floor with my back against the bed, running my hand through her hair in slow, steady motions.
Eventually the crying stopped.
Her breathing steadied.
And then she shifted.
Hannah gently pulled away from me.
The sudden absence of her warmth left an odd hollow feeling in my chest.
She wiped at her face quickly, brushing away the tears with the back of her hand. Her hair had fallen messily around her shoulders and her eyes looked red.
But she wouldn’t look at me.
I watched her for a moment before speaking.
“Are you okay?”
My voice sounded quieter than I intended.
She nodded quickly.
“Yes.”
Too quickly.
She was already moving, pushing herself to her feet like she couldn’t get away fast enough.
Distance.
She was already building it.
I stood up as well.
“Hannah.”
She paused but didn’t turn around.
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to find the right words.
This wasn’t exactly a situation I had rehearsed before.
Finally I exhaled.
“That kiss… was unexpected.”
She stiffened slightly but still didn’t face me.
“I’m guessing you probably regret it.”
Silence stretched between us.
I continued before she could bolt for the door.
“But I don’t want it to ruin things between us.”
That made her slowly turn around.
Her eyes finally met mine.
“We’ve spent more than half a year building something decent here,” I said. “And I’d rather not throw that away because one moment got… out of hand.”
Hannah said nothing.
She just listened.
Her face was quiet but thoughtful.
“We can’t keep running from each other every time something awkward happens,” I added. “At some point it gets ridiculous.”
The corner of her mouth twitched faintly like she almost smiled.
Almost.
Finally she nodded.
Slowly.
“I guess that’s fair.”
Her voice was soft but steadier now.
Relief loosened something tight in my chest.
“Good.”
A small silence settled between us.
Then I pointed lightly toward the door.
“You should still come to breakfast tomorrow.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“I’ll be waiting,” I added.
She hesitated before nodding again.
“Okay.”
“No,” I said, folding my arms. “That sounded suspiciously noncommittal.”
Her lips parted slightly in confusion.
“I want a verbal promise.”
That finally pulled a tiny smile from her.
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
She sighed, clearly amused despite herself.
“Fine. I promise I’ll come to breakfast tomorrow.”
“Good.”
For a moment neither of us moved.
We simply stood there looking at each other in the quiet room.
The tension from earlier had softened into something calmer.
Still strange.
Still unfamiliar.
But calmer.
After a second I nodded toward her.
“Are you actually okay now?”
This time her nod looked more genuine.
“Yes.”
She paused.
“I don’t even know what happened.”
“It was a panic attack,” I said.
Her eyebrows lifted again.
“You were hyperventilating. Your breathing sped up, your body went into fight-or-flight mode, and then your brain convinced you you couldn’t breathe.”
She stared at me like that answer surprised her.
“If it happens again,” I continued, “focus on slowing your breathing first. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slowly.”
She listened carefully.
“Ground yourself,” I added. “Look around the room and name five things you can see. It helps your brain reset.”
Her head tilted slightly.
“You sound very experienced with this.”
I shrugged lightly.
“There are a few tricks.”
Hannah studied me with quiet curiosity.
“How do you know all this?”
For a split second I stiffened.
Old memories flickered unpleasantly at the edge of my mind.
I forced them back down.
“I had quite a few panic attacks when I was younger.”
The words came out evenly.
Simple.
True.
Her expression softened immediately.
“Oh.”
She looked like she wanted to ask something else.
Probably a lot of things.
But before she could, I stepped back toward the door.
Some doors didn’t need reopening.
Not tonight.
I reached for the handle and paused.
Then I glanced back at her.
“Well,” I said dryly, “this is officially the first time I’ve ever kissed a woman and made her cry.”
Hannah blinked.
Then she laughed.
A real laugh this time.
The sound loosened the last of the tension in the room.
“Sorry,” she said, still smiling faintly.
I shook my head.
“Don’t worry. I’ll try to recover from the damage to my ego.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Goodnight, Timothy.”
“Get some sleep,” I replied.
She nodded.
“Okay. Goodnight.”
I stepped out into the hallway and gently closed the door behind me.
The quiet of the corridor felt different now.
Heavier.
I exhaled slowly and ran a hand through my hair before heading back downstairs.
My feet carried me back toward the terrace almost without thinking.
The candles were still burning when I stepped outside.
Dinner sat untouched on the table exactly where we had left it.
The telescope stood near the railing, still pointed toward the night sky.
For a moment I just looked around.
Then I walked over and began dismantling it.
The familiar routine helped quiet my mind.
Lens cap.
Tripod folded.
Equipment packed neatly back into its case.
The metal clicked softly with each movement.
When I finished, I placed the case against the wall.
The terrace had grown colder.
Or maybe that was just my mood.
I dropped into one of the chairs near the table.
The glass and bottle of whiskey still sat there.
Untouched.
I reached for the bottle and poured myself a generous drink.
The amber liquid caught the candlelight.
I took a slow sip.
The burn spread warmly down my throat.
For a while I simply sat there staring out over the estate.
The grounds stretched wide and quiet beneath the night sky.
Garden lights illuminated the winding paths and trimmed hedges.
Beyond that, darkness swallowed the rest of the land.
My mind wandered despite my best efforts.
It had taken more self-control than I liked to admit not to walk away after that kiss.
Running would have been easier.
Safer.
But Hannah had already done enough running for both of us tonight.
And now…
Now I didn’t know what any of it meant.
I lifted the glass again and took another drink.
Despite everything I had just told her, something between us had shifted.
Irrevocably.
I could feel it.
There was no pretending things were exactly the same anymore.
My mind drifted back to the kiss whether I wanted it to or not.
Hannah’s lips against mine.
Her fingers gripping my shirt.
The warmth of her body pressed against me.
I leaned back in the chair, staring up at the dark sky.
Unfamiliar ground.
Dangerous ground.
But if I was being honest with myself…
I couldn’t say I regretted it.
Even if she did.
I zoned out for a while, the memory replaying quietly in the back of my head.
Then I blinked and realized my glass was empty.
I poured another drink and took a large swallow.
The whiskey burned stronger this time.
I exhaled slowly and muttered under my breath.
“…I’m fucked.”