Chapter 50 Forty nine

Chapter 50 Forty nine

Nora.

As I gently fluffed Miles' pillow, I spoke softly, "Just a couple more sips, and you're done." He was refusing to eat, and I had prepared a strawberry smoothie for him since he was still unable to chew. Miles managed a small smile and nodded his head. He didn't say much, no matter how hard I tried to make the room lively. Instead, he just stared at me with that same smile while I talked the entire time.

Deep in my gut, shame and embarrassment churned for what Howard had done to him. Miles didn't deserve any of it. But everything had happened so rapidly. Miles had come to visit me, and Howard had misinterpreted everything, leading to a brutal assault that left Miles with a broken jaw and Howard unconscious from his own rage. I had been devastated for the past week, torn between my loyalty to Howard and my sympathy for Miles.

"Nora," Miles called my name, breaking my reverie. I raised my brows in response.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked curiously, that ever-present smile still on his face. I shook my head and forced a smile. "Nothing... just... nothing," I said and sighed.

Miles shook his head gently. "You're thinking about it again. It wasn't your fault," he reassured me.

"You need to rest," I told him, placing the cup of smoothie on the side drawer.

"He was just trying to protect you," Miles said, which made me scoff. "Oh, now you want to be on his side?" It was ridiculous of Miles to say that, considering his own doubts about Howard.

"I have my reasons," he replied, shifting his gaze to the window. I stared at Miles for a moment before taking a seat in the chair beside his bed. His face bore a faded dark circle, and he had a cut on his lower lip. His jaw was securely wrapped, awaiting healing.

"Can I be honest with you, Nora?" Miles asked, causing me to hesitate. Such moments rarely ended well or with pleasant revelations. I nodded, eager to hear what he had to say.

"You were right when you said I didn't just come back because of Greenbell's issues. I came back because of you," he confessed. I took a deep breath, waiting for him to elaborate.

"For me? Why?" I questioned eagerly.

"Remember the day I was in your room when your mom passed away, and we were just lying down, staring at the ceiling on your bed?" he asked. I hesitated for a moment before nodding, recalling how he had consoled me during that difficult time.

"Ella and Eliana interrupted, right? Accusing us of kissing?" he continued with a chuckle, wincing slightly due to his broken jaw. "Ella was right... I did want to kiss you, so badly," he confessed, leaving me breathless. I tried to breathe out, but I froze, staring at Miles as he smiled genuinely. I had never thought of Miles that way before, and it had never occurred to me that he might want to kiss me.

"Howard was right too," he added. "I wanted to kiss you."

I blinked rapidly, unable to take my eyes off him as I processed these revelations. My lips parted, but I couldn't utter the one-word question that hung heavily in the air: why? My throat felt clogged, and it all suddenly made sense—Miles had protected me because he had feelings for me.

"But I swear I wasn't going to be offended if you rejected me. And put it at the back of your mind that I will always defend and protect you, whatever the case may be," he clarified.

I looked at him with glassy eyes, finally exhaling the trapped air inside my throat. "When?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Since I first saw you," he replied with a grin, despite the pain he was feeling. "Since the first day my father introduced us to you and your mom. That night, I was pissed that we had to leave our home to start living with you guys. But all that changed when I saw you. At first, I wanted to tell you how I felt, but then I got discouraged day by day, especially seeing how Herman hypocritically threw you under the bus. I didn't want you to think I was going to use you, so I just had to keep things casual and be the brother you needed."

I gaze across the room as Miles pours out his heart to me, confessing a love that has silently brewed for five long years, the very years he's spent under the same roof as me. My heart churns with a myriad of emotions, for I, too, am entangled in the tendrils of unrequited love. I am smitten by someone who regards me merely as an option, a fact that stings with a unique bitterness. This revelation is a revelation indeed; I had never once considered Miles in this light.

Whenever we've been alone, I've noticed the way he looks at me, yet I've never allowed myself to entertain the thought of his affections being anything more than friendship or brother and sister kind relationship. Now, the weight of his revelation has brought embarrassment and shyness flooding over me, intensified by the fact that he witnessed me marrying another man.

"I departed because I couldn't bear the torment of not being your chosen one," Miles confesses with a voice heavy with pain. "I couldn't stand by and watch you be with someone who doesn't cherish your presence. Howard doesn't truly deserve you, as we both know."

I rise to Howard's defense, my words charged with loyalty. "Howard is a good man who's facing countless challenges."

Miles fixes me with a stoic stare, sighing deeply. "You love him, don't you?" The bitterness in his voice is palpable. I lower my head, offering a reluctant nod. Miles remains silent, turning his gaze to the window as if seeking solace there. I watch him, consumed by guilt for the physical and emotional suffering he endures on my account.

"Miles," I call out softly. He doesn't meet my eyes until he's had his fill of the outside view. When he finally does, I reach out, taking his hand in mine and giving it a gentle squeeze, coupled with a feeble smile. "I'm sorry. I had no inkling of your feelings for me. We could have discussed this and figured out what to do. When Herman introduced me to Howard, I thought I needed no one, but I fell for him the moment I laid eyes on him, even before knowing he was my mate. Now I'm ensnared in his love, unable to extricate myself. I'm so sorry you had to watch me be with someone."

I swallow hard as Miles nods and withdraws his hand from my grasp. We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of our unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Relief washes over me as the door finally swings open, bringing an end to this painfully prolonged silence.

My sense of relief crumbles as Howard steps into the room. His presence here is a rare occurrence; typically, he opts for the impersonal delivery of food or gifts. In these recent times, our interactions have dwindled to almost nothing, and our silence toward each other has become a shared and uncomfortable habit. Alex follows him into the room, and I greet him with a polite smile and a morning salutation.

"How's the patient?" Alex inquires, his concern directed at Miles. My smile remains, and I nod. "He's on the mend," I reply, but I can't help but notice Alex nudging Howard, prompting him to speak. Howard clears his throat, a visible display of his discomfort, and it's evident that Alex has orchestrated this visit.

Howard eventually stammers out, "How's he? Does he need anything?" His question, considering the circumstances, strikes me as somewhat absurd. Miles is perfectly capable of articulating his needs. I respond curtly, "He's more than capable of speaking for himself. Excuse me, please," and I retreat to the bathroom. As I close the door behind me, a tumult of emotions crashes over me, and my throat constricts with a searing ache. Unbidden tears well up, and I can't help but resent how Howard's behavior continues to affect me.

I grapple with my feelings because, despite the turmoil he puts me through, I can't deny that a part of me still loves Howard. It's a tormenting paradox, leaving me torn between walking away and confronting him. I fear the sting of rejection and the prospect of leaving, yet I'm not ready to accept the latter.

My mother's words echo in my mind - when someone loves you, or even harbors the slightest affection, it's unmistakable. But when they don't, you're left in a bewildering haze. In my case, confusion reigns supreme, and I'm adrift in a sea of uncertainty, unsure of how to navigate these treacherous emotional waters. Confronting Howard, laying bare my feelings, feels futile; after all, I'm already bound to him as his wife. Nevertheless, I deserve to be treated with kindness.

Tears stream down my cheeks, and I make no attempt to halt their flow. I find a corner in the bathroom, sit down, and draw my knees close to my chest. For a few minutes, I surrender to the cleansing release of tears, shedding the heaviness that descended upon me when I first laid eyes on Howard. When I finally rise, I wash my face meticulously, ensuring that no traces of redness remain in my eyes.

Returning to the room, I find Miles alone. He informs me that Howard wants to see me. Stepping out of the room, I encounter Howard, who stands leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

He sighs and approaches me. "You wanted to see me?" I asked when he was close enough. "Yes, come with me," he says, stretching out his hand. I hesitate momentarily, contemplating the implications of this gesture, before ultimately placing my hand in his. Without uttering a word, he guides me out of the hospital room.

The day was pulsating with events, undoubtedly spurred by the lively atmosphere that often enveloped Saturdays, especially with bustling markets. Walking hand in hand with Howard, I surveyed our surroundings, taking in the vibrant scenery. But when I discerned that our trajectory led back home, I came to a sudden halt, causing Howard to regard me with curiosity.

"I have to be with Miles," I declared, anticipating Howard's surprise. Yet, he didn't react as expected. "There are nurses attending to his needs. I've ensured that," he stated, attempting to coax me into moving. But I remained steadfast, a simmering annoyance building within me. This was Howard's twisted way of offering an apology, and it irked me. Instead of facing issues head-on, he consistently resorted to convoluted methods, sidestepping responsibility like a skilled dancer.

"Please," he pleaded, and for a brief moment, I hesitated. Then, with a sigh of resignation, I relented and followed him.

We reached home and then to the dining hall, and I gazed hungrily at the array of dishes. The rumble of my empty stomach confirmed that I was genuinely famished. "They even made fish tacos," I exclaimed, grabbing one to savor. Filling my plate with an assortment of tempting offerings, I settled down to eat. My first bites nearly choked me, a stark reminder that I hadn't been myself for the past week, avoiding the dining hall altogether. When I finally looked up, I realized Howard had been watching me intently, and I snapped back to reality.

His laughter broke the silence, and I rolled my eyes in response. "Told you that you were hungry," he remarked, but I chose to ignore him. His presence became increasingly distracting, and I abruptly abandoned a half-eaten samosa to gaze at him in irritation.

"What?" I inquired, my tone laced with annoyance.

"You're angry with me," he observed, a statement I couldn't dispute. I scoffed and turned my head away.

"I was just trying to protect you," he began, signaling the start of a conversation I knew I couldn't evade.

"Or you were just being selfish," I retorted coldly. Howard fell silent for a moment, his gaze drifting around the dining hall. When he remained reticent, I decided to make my exit.

"I need to shower," I declared, rising from my seat. Howard stood as well.

"I'll join you," he offered, catching me off guard.

"What?" I stammered, bewildered by his proposition.

"I'll shower with you," he repeated, his arms encircling me. Strangely, this time, I felt an intense reluctance to give him what he seemed to desire. My anger and irritation with Howard had reached a boiling point, rendering me unwilling to engage in any intimacy with him. I extricated myself from his grasp, my resolve firm.

"Someone I consider my brother is suffering because of you," I spat out, the words laden with frustration. "He's in the hospital, enduring the pain you inflicted on him, while you're here attempting to engage with the girl he only wanted to see happy and protected."

Howard made another attempt to reach for me, his eyes softening, but I wasn't buying it. "Don't," I warned, my patience wearing thin.

"Nora," he uttered my name softly, but I couldn't bear it any longer.

"I am sick and tired of your games, Howard!" I erupted. "You treat me as if I'm just some disposable plaything to indulge in whenever you're horny or lonely. Is that all I am to you? Damn it, I loathe exposing my feelings to you..." I stormed off, leaving him behind in the dining hall, but I could hear his footsteps following closely.

I stormed into my room, my anger driving me to swiftly strip off my clothes. "You only care about yourself," I continued to berate him, each word dripping with resentment. "So selfish," I declared, hurling my shirt at him. My jeans followed, flung in his direction. Oddly, he didn't dodge any of my projectiles, catching them with ease as he observed me with gentle eyes. His lack of anger only stoked my frustration further.

"You know what? Fuck you, Howard," I cursed, preparing to voice my anger once more. But before I could draw another breath, he silenced me with a kiss, his ardor overwhelming my defenses. I surrendered to the kiss, my fingers clutching his shirt, pulling him closer. I wanted to resist, to cease this passionate encounter, but I found myself unable to do so. It was a maddening dilemma whenever I was with Howard. He trailed kisses along my neck, his touch igniting sensations that I tried to suppress.

"I'm sorry," he finally confessed, punctuating his words with another passionate kiss.