Chapter 430

[ 1,024 words ]

Noah’s POV

I shook my head.

“It wasn’t a misunderstanding p>

“Then what was it p>

“We can fight each other as adults,” I said. “Business. Power. Old history. All of it. I don’t care how ugly that gets. But when someone goes after a child, that’s where I draw the line. He sent a man to Aiden’s school. He used you as a public weapon on the same day. I couldn’t stay under the same roof as that and keep calling myself anything decent p>

Delia watched me for a long moment. Something complicated moved behind her eyes.

“You’re too sweet,” she said eventually. “That’s not how things work. Not in families like yours. Not in families like mine. People use whatever leverage they have. Children. Marriages. Old messages. It’s all the same currency p>

“It doesn’t have to be p>

“It is p>

I stepped closer and, for the first time since the night we signed the papers, I reached for her hand. Her fingers were cold. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lace them with mine either. She just let me hold them.

“I know this marriage was rushed,” I said. “I know my father forced it. I know I walked into it treating you like an assignment. I never planned to get married just to turn around and get divorced the second it became inconvenient. That was never the point for me, even when the whole thing was still a transaction p>

Delia’s brow furrowed slightly.

“What are you saying p>

“I’m asking if you want to try and make it a real one p>

The words hung in the air between us. Delia stared at me like she was waiting for the second half of a joke that wasn’t coming.

“A real marriage,” she repeated.

“Yes p>

“You don’t even like me p>

“I didn’t know you,” I said. “There’s a difference p>

She pulled her hand back slowly and folded her arms.

“And what exactly does a real marriage look like to you in this situation? Shared calendars? Joint statements? Sleeping in the same room so the press can stop calling it a sham p>

“It looks like trying,” I said. “It looks like not treating each other like temporary solutions. It looks like seeing if there’s something here that isn’t just damage control and old orders p>

Delia let out a breath and glanced toward the window again.

“What are we going to eat?” she asked.

The question was so abrupt and so ordinary that it almost knocked the tension out of the room.

“What p>

“If we’re suddenly trying to have a real marriage,” she said, still not looking at me, “what are we going to eat? Do I have to start cooking for you? Do we sit at the same table every night and pretend this is normal? You don’t even have a job p>

“You’ll eat what I eat,” I said.

That got her eyes back on me. There was a flicker of something almost like dark humor in them.

“You’ll eat what I eat,” she repeated. “That’s your big vision p>

“It’s a start p>

She shook her head slowly.

“You don’t love me p>

“No,” I said. “I still don’t.” The honesty landed cleanly. I didn’t try to soften it. “But I’m willing to try,” I continued. “And if it doesn’t work, we go our separate ways without dragging each other through more public mud than we’ve already had. No strategies. No using the marriage as a shield or a weapon. Just two people seeing if they can build something that isn’t rotten from the first day p>

Delia sat with that for a long time. Her thumb moved back and forth across her opposite wrist, a small restless motion. I could almost see her turning the offer over from every angle, looking for the trap, the angle, the part that would cost her more than she still had left to give.

“You’re serious,” she said finally.

“Yes p>

“And if I say no p>

“Then we keep the legal arrangement until it makes sense to end it cleanly. I won’t force this p>

She looked down at her hands, then back up at me.

“Alright,” she said.

“Alright p>

“I’ll try.” The words came out quiet but clear. “I don’t know how to do a real marriage. I don’t even know if I believe in them anymore. But I’ll try. On the condition that you don’t suddenly start expecting me to become someone soft and grateful. I am still the same person who walked into this. That doesn’t disappear because you gave a press conference p>

“I didn’t ask you to become anyone else p>

“Good p>

We sat in the quiet for a while after that. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t empty either. Something had shifted. Not into love. Not even into trust. Just into a fragile agreement to stop treating the space between us like a battlefield by default.

“I’m going to make coffee,” I said eventually. “Do you want some p>

Delia hesitated, then nodded.

“Black p>

I paused at the door.

“Delia p>

She looked up.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “Not just for what he did. For the way I handled all of this from the beginning. You deserved better than being someone else’s move on a board p>

She didn’t answer right away. Then she gave a small, tired shrug.

“Most of us don’t get what we deserve,” she said. “But thank you for saying it anyway p>

I nodded and left the room.

In the kitchen I measured out the coffee with more care than the task needed. My hands were steadier than I expected. Somewhere upstairs the woman I had married under orders was sitting with the first honest offer either of us had made to the other. It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t a solution to the war still waiting outside the house. It was just a decision to stop adding to the damage if we could help it.

I poured two cups, black, and carried them back down the hall.

We would eat what I ate.

We would try.

And if it failed, at least it would fail without the same lies we had started with.

For now, that was enough.

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