Chapter 160 A Comforting Presence
Anabelle sat on the couch, her hands clasped tightly together. The room was quiet except for the sound of rain tapping against the window.
Carson’s words still echoed in her mind, soft but heavy. Even though she had stood firm, a part of her heart felt shaken.
She stared at her phone on the table. After a long moment, she picked it up and scrolled through her contacts. Her finger hovered over Fred’s name. She hesitated, then pressed “call.”
The phone rang twice before his calm voice came through. “Anabelle?” he said.
“Fred,” she said softly. Her voice trembled more than she wanted it to.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.
She took a slow breath. “Can you come over?” she asked quietly. “Please.”
“I’ll be there,” he said without hesitation.
She hung up and sat there, staring at the rain. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. She stood and walked over, her bare feet silent against the wooden floor.
When she opened the door, Fred was standing there, a dark jacket clinging to his shoulders from the rain. His eyes searched her face, full of concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
She shook her head slightly. “Not really,” she said.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “What happened?” he asked softly.
“Carson came,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Fred’s eyes hardened for a brief moment, but his tone remained calm. “What did he want?” he asked.
“He said he wanted another chance,” she said, moving to the couch and sitting down. “But I told him no. I told him everything I needed to say.”
Fred sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. “That must’ve been hard,” he said quietly.
“It was,” she admitted. “But it was also… freeing.”
He nodded. “You did the right thing,” he said.
Anabelle smiled weakly. “Then why do I still feel like crying?” she asked.
“Because it still hurts,” Fred said simply. “Even when you make the right choice, it doesn’t mean it won’t ache.”
She looked at him, her eyes glistening. “You always know what to say,” she said.
He gave a small smile. “Not always,” he said. “But I know you deserve peace.”
For a while, they sat in silence. The rain continued to fall, steady and soft. Fred glanced toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten?” he asked.
Anabelle shook her head. “I wasn’t hungry.”
He stood up. “Then I’ll cook,” he said.
“You don’t have to,” she said quickly.
“I know,” he said, walking toward the kitchen. “But I want to.”
Anabelle followed him slowly. She watched as he opened the fridge and began taking out a few things—eggs, vegetables, some leftover rice. His movements were calm and sure.
“You always find something to make,” she said with a small laugh.
He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s a gift,” he said.
She leaned against the counter, watching him work. “Thank you for coming,” she said quietly.
He didn’t look up. “You don’t have to thank me, Anabelle,” he said. “You called, so I came. That’s what friends do.”
“Friends,” she repeated softly, looking at him.
He turned then, meeting her eyes. “Unless you’d rather call it something else,” he said, his tone light but his gaze serious.
She looked down quickly, her cheeks warming. “I don’t know what to call it,” she said.
He chuckled softly. “Then let’s not call it anything for now,” he said. “Let’s just… be here.”
She nodded, grateful for his gentleness.
When the food was ready, they sat at the small dining table. The smell of fried rice filled the room. Anabelle ate slowly, realizing only then how hungry she was.
“This is good,” she said between bites.
Fred smiled. “It’s simple,” he said.
“Simple is good,” she said quietly.
They talked while they ate—about work, about the rain, about little things that made the room feel lighter. Fred listened more than he spoke, nodding when she talked about her feelings, her fears, her confusion.
“I thought seeing Carson again would destroy me,” she said softly. “But it didn’t.”
Fred set down his spoon. “Because you’ve grown stronger,” he said. “You’ve learned how to stand on your own.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe,” she said. “But I think having people who care helps too.”
He smiled gently. “Then I’m glad to be one of those people,” he said.
After they finished eating, Fred helped her wash the dishes. The simple act of standing beside him, sleeves rolled up, hands in warm water, made her chest feel lighter.
When everything was clean, they moved back to the living room. Anabelle sat on the couch, pulling a blanket over her legs. Fred sat beside her again, this time closer than before.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He glanced at her. “For what?”
“For being here,” she said. “For not judging me. For not trying to fix everything.”
He smiled faintly. “Sometimes you don’t need someone to fix things,” he said. “You just need someone to stay.”
Her eyes softened. “You’re good at staying,” she said.
He chuckled. “Maybe because I like where I am,” he said.
Their eyes met, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The rain outside had softened to a gentle drizzle.
Anabelle looked away first, her heart beating faster than before. “It’s getting late,” she said.
Fred nodded. “I can leave if you want to rest,” he said quietly.
She hesitated. “You don’t have to go yet,” she said. “Stay a little longer.”
He leaned back on the couch, relaxing beside her. “Alright,” he said softly.
They sat in silence, the sound of rain filling the space between them. Anabelle rested her head against the back of the couch, and after a moment, Fred shifted slightly closer.
She turned her head toward him. Their eyes met again. There was something unspoken in the air—something warm, careful, and deep.
“Fred,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“I don’t know what’s next,” she said. “But I feel safe with you.”
He smiled, his eyes soft. “That’s enough for me,” he said.
Anabelle smiled back, her heart calming. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel alone.
The clock ticked softly on the wall. The storm outside faded into quiet.
As the night grew still, Fred gently took her hand. She didn’t pull away. Their fingers stayed intertwined, warm and steady.
They didn’t speak again. They didn’t need to. The silence between them said enough.
And though Anabelle didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, she knew one thing for sure—Carson’s shadow was gone, and in its place stood someone who saw her clearly, without trying to own her.
Fred stayed until she drifted to sleep, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. He watched her for a moment, a faint smile touching his lips, before whispering softly, “You’re stronger than you think, Anabelle.”
Then he sat still, letting her rest, the rain outside singing softly against the glass.