Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six
PRESENT TIME - NORWAY

I had not replied to any of Niklath’s messages since I landed. Not one. The only thing I had sent was a simple: "I'm here. Safe." That was four days ago. Between then and now, Niklath had called 67 times. I counted, not because I was keeping score, but because each missed call added to the pressure in my chest. Like the weight of my own silence was building a dam that would eventually burst.

I don't know if he truly did not understand the meaning of 'personal space', or if he simply refused to accept that I needed it from him, from everything. It probably wasn't fair. He wasn't the villain in all of this. But something inside me was angry and tired and hollow, and he just happened to be the one person I knew wouldn't walk away no matter how far I pushed.

So I blocked him. Maybe it was childish. Maybe I was being irrational. But I needed to not see his name pop up again and again. I needed the space to think without guilt, to feel without having to explain those feelings, to cry without having to say I'm fine in return. And no, this wasn't all his fault. We had both agreed to the marriage...there was never talk of romance... it just happened... there were no declarations, no promises except the ones made on paper. A merger, a contract, an alliance between two global shipping empires. That was the foundation. But foundations shift. They evolve. I had.

I think somewhere along the line, I began to hope.

Niklath never said he loved me. Not once. But he did everything else. He protected me. He shielded me from insults. He stood by me, touched me with reverence, kissed me like I was something to be treasured. For three years, he never once let another soul speak down to me. Never once treated me like anything less than a queen.

So what was I supposed to believe? If this wasn't love...this fierce loyalty, this careful devotion...then what was?

And then Cecilia walked back into his life. Elegant, poised, familiar. A woman who had once been his. A woman whose name still echoed in my chest like a bitter wind each time I remembered the way he had said it. He said he did not love her. That it was over. But he had loved her once. And I could not help but wonder if I had always been the arrangement while she had been the dream. The ache of it was relentless.

The worst part is I could not bring myself to truly blame him. Because we both signed the same papers. We both agreed to enter this marriage for reasons that had nothing to do with the heart. And yet, I had let my heart slip in when I thought he was not watching. I had let love in, quietly, like a trespasser. So maybe this silence wasn't really about him at all... Maybe it was about me grieving something I had never truly owned. A knock pulled me out of my spiral. I blinked at the cabin's front door, my hand trembling slightly as I rose from the worn leather sofa. The cold floor stung through my socks, and I rubbed my arms for warmth as I opened the door.

It was Alpha Jonas. He stood in a heavy wool coat, snowflakes clinging to his hair. In his arms was a beautifully arranged wicker hamper wrapped in cellophane, soft linen tucked inside with what looked like local jams, candles, and dried lavender sachets.

He smiled, boyish and kind, and held the basket up.

"My wife wanted you to have this," he said with a warm grin. "I told her what happened the other day and she wanted to put together something to make your stay more comforting."

Wife. The word echoed. I hadn't known he was married. But why was I surprised, after all he was an Alpha. A flicker of something...disappointment, maybe...rippled through me, but not the kind that left wounds. It was more a soft surprise. A quiet shift in the air. I felt slightly bitter the way his eyes warmed at the word ‘wife’

I smiled as I took the hamper. "That's really thoughtful. Please thank her for me."

"She would have come herself," Jonas added, stepping back slightly. "But she's heavily pregnant, and it hasn't been an easy one."

A deeper smile pulled at my mouth. I had nothing but warmth for women like that...women who gave life, who loved softly but fiercely.

"I hope everything goes well," I said quietly.

Jonas hesitated a second longer, then looked at me with a depth I had not expected.

"Are you alright, Mia?"

I hesitated. The weight of the question, the sincerity in his tone, nearly undid me.

I nodded, but my voice betrayed me. "No. But I will be."

There was a pause. He glanced at the wind picking up behind him, then looked back at me.

"If you ever need someone to talk to," he said, "my number's listed on the local emergency contact card in the kitchen drawer. I know that's not very poetic, but it's reliable."

I smiled, really smiled, for the first time in days. "Reliable is good."

He gave me a nod, tipped his head respectfully, and turned back into the snow.

I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. My eyes fell to the hamper, the Norwegian goodies...the lavender sachets, the simple kindness of strangers who expected nothing in return. I exhaled slowly and walked back to the sofa, curling beneath a knitted throw. The silence returned. But it no longer felt like loneliness. It felt like space. Like something necessary.