Chapter 18 The quiet before I break
Hannah
I fled.
I didn’t know where I was going, only that I needed to get away before the tears spilled over and made a spectacle of me. My chin stayed lifted out of sheer stubbornness, though it trembled with every step. I could feel the weight of eyes on my back, hear the faint ripple of laughter and murmurs following me like a cruel echo.
I didn’t look back.
I walked faster. Then faster still, heels clicking sharply against the polished floor until I reached a set of glass doors leading to a balcony. I pushed them open and stepped out into the cool night air, the city lights stretching endlessly below.
The moment the doors slid shut behind me, I crumpled.
My hands flew to my mouth as a sob tore free. Tears blurred the lights into smeared constellations as I leaned against the railing, my shoulders shaking. I cried quietly at first, then harder, the humiliation of it all crashing down at once; the laughter, Loretta’s words, Timothy’s silence.
Of course he didn’t help you, a voice whispered inside me. Why would he?
I pressed my forehead against the cold metal, breathing in short, broken gasps. I let myself cry until my chest ached and my throat burned and there was nothing left but exhaustion.
Slowly, the tears subsided.
I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, straightened my spine, and inhaled deeply. I wasn’t allowed to fall apart. Not here. Not now.
I was just smoothing my hair back into place when the balcony doors opened again.
I stiffened.
A man stepped out, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and distracted. He froze the moment he saw me.
“Oh…” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”
He glanced at my face, clearly taking in the redness of my eyes, the tightness of my expression. “I’ll… I’ll give you a moment.”
He turned to leave.
“It’s okay,” I said reflexively, my voice coming out steadier than I felt.
He hesitated, then ended the call with a quiet apology to whoever was on the other end and slipped his phone into his pocket.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said gently. “But… are you alright?”
“Yes,” I replied too quickly. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t challenge it. Didn’t push. He simply nodded and leaned against the railing a few feet away, giving me space while still staying.
That small kindness of not forcing me made something loosen inside my chest.
“I’m Rowan,” he said after a moment, offering a soft smile. “Can I get your name?”
“Hannah,” I said. Just Hannah.
He didn’t react. No flicker of recognition. No shadow of judgment.
We talked.
About nothing important at first; just the view, the noise inside, how overwhelming these events could be. His voice was calm, measured, oddly grounding. He listened more than he spoke, and when he did, it was with a warmth that felt almost unfamiliar.
“You don’t seem like you enjoy crowds,” he said lightly.
I huffed out a small laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little,” he admitted with a grin. “But you’re handling it well.”
That surprised me. “I don’t feel like I am.”
“Most people who handle things well don’t feel like they are,” he replied simply.
Something about the way he said it made my throat tighten again but this time, not from pain.
We laughed softly at something trivial he said, and I realized my shoulders had relaxed. My breathing had evened out. The ache in my chest had dulled.
Then silence settled between us.
Not uncomfortable. Just… present.
And suddenly, awareness crashed over me like ice water.
I was standing alone on a dimly lit balcony with a man I’d just met. My husband was inside. So was my sister. The same sister who already believed the worst of me. The same world that was waiting eagerly for any reason to tear me apart again.
If anyone saw us….
My stomach dropped.
“I should go,” I said abruptly, straightening. “Thank you. Really. But I…”
“Of course,” Rowan said immediately, stepping back. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
I forced a smile. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Hannah.”
I slipped back inside before he could say anything else, my heart racing as I walked quickly through the corridor. I had been so careless. If I’d been seen with that man, it’d have done no good for my image.
Pull yourself together, I told myself. You are not weak. You are not invisible.
By the time I re-entered the main room, the noise swallowed me again. Laughter. Music. Glasses clinking.
Timothy stood near the entrance, his arm subtly extended and waiting.
I didn’t take it. I walked past him. Straight to Loretta.
The room seemed to hush just slightly as I stopped in front of her. She looked at me with surprise that barely masked irritation, her lips already curving into that familiar, polished smile.
“Loretta,” I said, my voice louder than I intended. Loud enough that people nearby turned. “Can we talk?”
Her smile tightened. Refusing me now would draw attention.
“Of course, darling,” she said sweetly.
She looped her arm through mine like a loving sister, her nails biting into my skin just enough to warn me. Together, we turned and swept out of the room, a perfect picture of reconciliation.
I didn’t look back.
But I could feel Timothy’s stare burning into us from behind.