Chapter 15 Picking Herself Up
Nathan stood frozen in the living room, listening to the muffled sobs leaking through the bedroom door.
He pulled out his phone, dialed a colleague, and quietly canceled his afternoon lecture at the university.
Moving methodically, he rummaged through the scattered shopping bags on the floor, pulling out the groceries he had bought at Whole Foods and arranging them in the refrigerator.
Chloe cried intermittently throughout the entire afternoon. By evening, the sound had faded into a weak, exhausted silence.
She’s cried herself out, Nathan thought, his head bowed as he stood by the stove.
A pot of rich beef and vegetable stew simmered over the heat.
He stared blankly at the steam rising from the heavy cast-iron dish. Things changed so quickly.
Just before Chloe disappeared, they had been curled up on the sofa binge-watching a drama where the male lead made a pot of hot soup for the heroine. She had found it incredibly romantic and had pestered him endlessly to learn how to make it for her.
Back then, he had been too young. Raised by a doting mother, he had rarely set foot in a kitchen. Though he promised to learn, he procrastinated. He never truly tried.
And before he could, the accident happened.
Right before she left for her parents’ house that final weekend, Chloe had pinched his cheek and cheerfully demanded he make the soup for her when she got back. He had agreed instantly, never imagining it would take twenty-three years to finally cook it for her.
Today, he was finally simmering the soup she had asked for.
But what about her parents? So many of the meals they had wanted to make for her would never be cooked.
He understood now how agonizing, how utterly unbearable it had been for Alvin and Carol to leave this world without her.
And he understood exactly how Chloe felt right now.
Losing a loved one without ever seeing them again was like having your heart fed into an industrial crusher. It was the kind of pain that couldn’t be cried away, no matter how hard you screamed.
Nathan sat at the dining table for a long time.
The soup grew cold. He reheated it in the microwave, only for it to cool again. He reheated it once more.
Late into the night, Chloe still hadn’t emerged.
He walked over and knocked softly on her door. There was no response.
Unable to shake his mounting dread, he retrieved the spare key, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. Inside, Chloe was sitting on the floor in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, weeping silently in the dark.
Nathan walked over, crouched down, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
She lifted her head from her arms. Her voice was ravaged, hoarse from hours of crying. “I’m fine. I think I finally understand it. How could they have both changed their numbers? How could they make sure I could never reach them?”
Nathan asked softly, “Do you want to go back and see them? I had them both buried back in your hometown.”
Tears streamed down Chloe’s face as she slowly shook her head. “I don’t want to go. Not yet. I’m not ready.”
She didn’t want to face the cold gravestones. As long as she didn’t see them, she could fool herself into believing they were still alive. She could pretend she had just finished her holiday and returned to the city for work, and that when she went home at the end of the month, they would be waiting for her with a table full of food.
She could still feel the warmth of her father’s calloused palms. She vividly remembered the day he had carried her suitcase to the intersection, hailed a cab, and insisted on riding with her to the station.
But she had refused. “Dad, just go back inside. It’s freezing. Don’t trouble yourself.”
If she had known it would be their last meeting, she would have let him come.
If he had driven her to the station, she would have hugged him as tightly as she could. She would have made sure her last words to him were, “Dad, I love you.”
The thought made fresh tears spill uncontrollably over her cheeks.
She lowered her head, her voice breaking entirely. “Nathan, can I wait a little longer? I really—”
“Of course. I know you need time.” His hand tightened slightly on her shoulder, offering a steady, quiet strength. “Let me know whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Nathan,” Chloe whispered.
He glanced down at her, the words landing heavily in his chest. That was the second time she had thanked him today.
She never used to thank him. She used to expect him to do everything for her as a matter of course. If he ever seemed reluctant, she would cup his face, kiss him, and smile shamelessly. “I love you so much! Asking you for a favor is just giving you a chance to show your love for me! You should treasure it!”
He had always been charmed by it. He had never once held a grudge.
But now, she kept thanking him. Kept drawing lines between them.
It was the last thing in the world he wanted to hear.
He stood up. “I made soup. Come have some.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to eat,” Chloe replied, her head resting against her knees again.
Nathan lowered his eyes. He didn’t try to persuade her. He simply turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
He walked into the kitchen, turned off the stove, and left a bowl of soup on the dining table with a note. Then he went to the door, put on his coat, and left.
As he walked out into the freezing night, the darkness seemed to swallow him whole. Not even the harsh winter wind was as cold as the profound, isolating sorrow in his heart.
For an entire month after learning of her parents’ passing, Chloe barely stepped outside the apartment.
Nathan found time every single day to visit her. He even hired a housekeeper to shop for groceries, cook her meals, and clean the apartment, ensuring she didn’t have to lift a finger.
But every night, at nine o’clock sharp, he left to return to his own home to be with his son.
Watching him shuttle between the two places, Chloe felt an agonizing mix of gratitude and deep unease.
She kept waiting for the day Nathan’s wife would suddenly show up at the door and slap her across the face. She felt exactly like a kept mistress hiding in an apartment bought by a wealthy older man. Even the housekeeper occasionally gave her strange, assessing looks.
Wait—given the time jump, it wasn’t even clear who was the older woman in this scenario!
Regardless, she absolutely refused to compete with another woman for a man. She despised that kind of drama.
Yes, Nathan was wonderful. Yes, she had once wanted to spend every second of her life with him. But now he was nearly her father’s age, and he had a fifteen-year-old son. She was not going to be a stepmother to a teenager. She simply couldn’t entertain the thought.
Every morning, Chloe had to wage a brutal internal battle, talking herself down from relying on him before she lost herself completely.
She was an independent, highly educated woman. She would never allow herself to become someone’s secret on the side. Not even Nathan’s.
If her parents knew he was taking care of her like this, they would be furious.
She had to get back on her feet and support herself. It was the absolute least she could do to honor them.
Once she made the decision, Chloe forced herself to pull it together. Her first step was finding a job and forcing herself back into society. She had Nathan teach her how to navigate the modern internet and submit resumes online.
But for weeks, she received absolutely no responses. Her degree was from over two decades ago. Her work experience was a blank slate.
Finally, she swallowed her pride, reached out to an old college classmate she had managed to locate, and miraculously secured an interview.
When she told Nathan, he frowned immediately.
“I don’t think you need to rush into finding a job,” he objected, clearly reluctant to let her leave the safety of the apartment and exhaust herself in a world she barely understood.
Chloe kept her eyes on her printed resume, organising her papers. “How else am I supposed to live? I can’t keep relying on you forever.”
“Why not?” Nathan asked softly.
His voice was so quiet, but the words hit the air like a physical weight.
Chloe’s hands stopped moving. She looked up at him, forcing her expression into a defensive glare. “Why not? Nathan, I’m not that kind of woman. Don’t even think about making me your mistress. Forget it!”
Nathan watched her. His hands slowly clenched into fists at his sides, his lips pressing into a thin, bloodless line.
Then, very deliberately, he took a step toward her.
“What if I get divorced?” he asked, his voice dark and deadly serious. “Would that be okay?”
Chloe’s heart skipped a violent beat. Her breath caught in her throat.
“No,” she stammered, stepping back. “No. I… I’m not going to be someone else’s stepmom.”
“You just think I’m too old now, don’t you?” Nathan said, a faint, bitter smile twisting his lips.
“Of course not! Don’t say that!” Chloe denied it instantly, her voice entirely too loud.
Nathan knew her far too well. He knew that the louder and fiercer she sounded, the more likely she was lying to cover up her own panic.
He stared at her for a long moment, the tension between them thick enough to choke on. Finally, he sighed, the fight draining out of him, and turned away.
“What kind of job are you looking for?” he asked tiredly. “I have connections. I can arrange something suitable for you.”
“No need! I already found one,” Chloe hastily waved him off, desperate to re-establish the boundary between them. “I graduated from a top-tier university. Do I really need you to pull strings for me?”
Nathan just looked at her, his dark eyes brimming with a heavy, unsettled concern.