Chapter 11
Andrea sat in the drawing room that morning, absently tracing circles over the blanket draped across her lap. The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that stretched endlessly, pressing down on her. She was tired of being cooped up, tired of the same four walls, the same silence.
Though, if she was being honest, it wasn’t all bad.
She hadn’t slept in her own bed for weeks now. Not since the night she caught a cold. Not since Asher had insisted she stay in the living room, where he could keep an eye on her. The broken latch on the bedroom window had been fixed over a week ago. Her room was warm again, waiting for her.But she hadn’t gone back.And Asher hadn’t told her to.
Instead, every night, he quietly laid out her mattress beside his, arranging the blankets just the way she liked. Neither of them said a word about it. It was just something that happened, something that felt natural, like breathing.
And so, every night, she lay down beside him, pretending it didn’t make her heart race a little faster. Pretending she didn’t notice the way he always shifted in his sleep, moving closer, as if drawn to her without thinking.
Sometimes, she’d wake up before him, her head resting against his chest, his arm curled protectively around her. And she would stay like that for just a moment longer than necessary, eyes closed, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
It was a secret neither of them spoke about. A quiet, unspoken agreement.
She missed going outside, missed fresh air and open spaces, but somehow, the loneliness didn’t feel so sharp anymore.
Because every night, when the world was dark and still, she had this—this quiet closeness, this silent warmth, this thing between them that neither of them named.And she didn’t want it to change.Andrea sat on the windowsill, absentmindedly watching the world outside when her gaze landed on a crumpled piece of paper tossed carelessly into the corner of the sofa. Curious, she reached for it, smoothing out the creases to see what it was.
A page from the newspaper.
She smiled to herself. Ever since Asher had secured a permanent job at Rockers & Co., managing their finances, he had started getting the newspaper delivered to their doorstep every morning. It had become something of a habit—reading the news over breakfast, flipping through the pages as he sipped his coffee.
But there was something else too.
Some mornings, after reading the newspaper, his entire demeanor would change. His jaw would tighten, his fingers gripping the pages a little too hard before he’d fold them away with forced nonchalance. She had caught the flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, frustration, confusion. And when she asked about it, his response was always the same.
"I don’t know," he would say, shaking his head, as if dismissing a thought before it could fully take shape. Or worse, he would deny it altogether. "It’s nothing, Andrie. Just…nothing."
But she knew better.
She could see it in the way his mood would shift, how he would suddenly find an excuse to busy himself with something else—rinsing the dishes a little too aggressively, fixing a perfectly fine chair, rearranging books on the shelf that didn’t need rearranging. It was as if something in those pages was tugging at a part of him he couldn’t quite reach.
And yet, despite whatever was going on in his head, he never let it interfere with the life they had fallen into so effortlessly. Every morning, he still made breakfast for both of them, cleaned up, made sure she was resting, and packed her lunch before heading off to work. And every evening, he returned home, cooked dinner, and sat with her like nothing had changed.
But Andrea wasn’t blind.
She was starting to piece things together, even if he wouldn’t admit it.Unfolding the crumpled page in her hands, she glanced down at it.The financial section.Of course.She exhaled softly, smoothing the page out against her lap. Whatever it was that unsettled him, it was there, hidden somewhere in the numbers, the articles, the world of finance that should have felt familiar to him.
And yet, it didn’t.
Not entirely.
She bit her lip, glancing toward the closed door of their shared home, the weight of an unspoken truth pressing against her chest.
Asher wasn’t telling her everything.
The whole town buzzed with excitement. A meteor shower had been predicted, one that would be visible from this side of the globe, and the anticipation was infectious.And, of course, American capitalism had seized the opportunity, turning the celestial event into a grand spending festival.
St. Marie Park, just outside the church courtyard, had been declared the prime viewing spot. The open space offered a perfect view of the night sky, and the local authorities wasted no time in monetizing it—renting out the sidelines to vendors and stall owners while leaving the middle open for the public to gather and watch the spectacle.
Everywhere Andrea turned, people were talking about it—the teenagers hanging out at the corner store, the elderly folks in their rocking chairs, even the mailman who grumbled about the extra flyers he had to deliver. It was all anyone could think about.And Andrea was sick of it.Not because she didn’t care.Because she did.
She wanted to be part of the excitement, to share in the town’s collective joy, to feel the thrill of looking up at the sky and witnessing something rare and beautiful. But all she felt was bitterness.She couldn’t go.At her last check-up, the doctor had once again warned her to take it easy. Her blood pressure had spiked, and while she was no longer bedridden, she was still under strict orders to rest and avoid unnecessary exertion.
Which meant no crowded parks. No cool night air. No leaning back on a blanket and watching the meteors streak across the sky.
On the Saturday before the meteor shower, Andrea noticed a new poster stuck right behind their house. As if the whole town wasn’t hyped enough, now they were bringing in a DJ for a post-show party.
Great. Just great.
She sighed, slumping further into the couch. It was bad enough that she couldn’t go—now she had to hear about how amazing it was going to be?
Asher glanced up from where he was peeling peas and smirked. “So… have you thought about what you’re going to wear that night?”
Andrea shot him a withering glare. “Oh, shut up.”He grinned. “Maybe something sparkly, to match the meteors?”She grabbed the nearest cushion and launched it at him. “You do know I can’t go, right? Sometimes you’re a real jerk, Asher.”
The words slipped out harsher than she intended, and guilt settled in almost immediately.
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being like this. I guess I just feel emotional over nothing these days. And it’s not like I even care about some dumb meteor shower. It’s just a marketing gimmick to get people to spend money anyway.” She shrugged, looking away.
Asher just raised an eyebrow and casually went back to his peas. “Huh. In that case, I guess jerk Asher will have to cancel his plans of taking you there.”
Andrea froze. Blinked.“Wait… what?”“I thought you weren’t interested?” He smirked, deliberately avoiding her gaze.Her mouth fell open. “Wait. Wait. You were going to take me? How?!”Asher shrugged, all nonchalance.She grabbed another pillow and whomped him with it.“ASHER!”Turns out, Asher had planned everything down to the last detail.
He had spoken to Mr. Dylan and his son, who owned a car repair shop, and rented an old Ford Maverick pickup truck just for the night.“I’ll throw some pillows in the back,” he told her, his voice smooth, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And, of course, your favorite blanket. We can park just outside the park, watch the whole thing in peace—best seats in the house.”
Andrea had stared at him, something tight and warm unraveling inside her.He had no idea what he had just given her.It wasn’t just about the meteor shower anymore. It was about him. About the way he always seemed to know exactly what she needed—without her ever having to say it.For the first time in so long, she felt giddy, felt the buzz of excitement thrumming through her veins.
She picked out a pink, flowy sundress—not a maternity dress, just one of her old favorites that still fit, skimming over her swollen belly. It was the first time in months she had dressed up, the first time in even longer she had looked in the mirror and wanted to feel beautiful.And then she caught him watching her.Asher stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze dark and slow as it dragged over her from head to toe.“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his stare.He tilted his head slightly.
“You know,” she murmured, smoothing her hands over the fabric, “once upon a time, I used to look beautiful in this dress."Her voice was light, but she wasn’t sure why she suddenly wanted him to say something.Wanted him to make her feel beautiful.Asher didn’t blink. He studied her, his expression unreadable, the air between them shifting into something heavier.
Then, with a thoughtful hum, he said, “I don’t know about that.”Andrea frowned, lips parting—until he added, low and slow, “But you are right about one thing.”His lips curled into a smirk.“This dress covers up too much.”She blinked. “Excuse me?”“I like you better in that nighty,” he said, his voice dropping just a fraction, rougher now.
Something shivered down her spine.
“The blue silk one,” he went on, taking a step closer, like he wasn’t just setting her on fire with his words alone. “The one you were wearing last night.”Andrea sucked in a breath.Heat.Pure, smoldering heat crackled between them.She could feel it in the way his voice had thickened, in the way his eyes darkened as they drifted lower, remembering.
It wasn’t the first time he had flirted with her. But tonight, it wasn’t just playful teasing.Tonight, it was different.Because tonight, for the first time, there was something in his gaze—something that curled low in her stomach, something that made her knees weak.A slow-burning fire.A promise of something she wasn’t sure she could handle.Her breath came quicker, lips parting slightly, pulse hammering in her throat.She had burned in that fire before.
She was still burning from it.And she didn’t know if she could survive stepping into the flames again.Gulping, she tore her gaze away, fingers clenching the fabric of her dress, desperate to steady herself.“Let’s go,” she whispered, voice shakier than she intended.
But Asher didn’t move right away.Didn’t speak.She felt the weight of his stare, the way he was still watching her, still smiling—like he already knew.That no matter how much she tried to resist—She was already burning for him.