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With that, she walks to the laundry room and drops the apron into a basket like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then she passes by us—by me—and steps into the elevator, without another word.

I stand completely still, watching the elevator doors close behind her. And suddenly, I can’t tell if I’m relieved or more heartbroken.

She’s not his lover. She’s not the one in his bed. She’s just… someone who cooks for him. A hired chef? A meal prep service?

But that almost makes it worse, somehow. Because now I have no one to blame. No one to hate. Only myself. For every assumption, every fear, every wasted minute I thought something else. And for the way my heart still races. Still aches.

THIRTY-NINE

Sierra

“Are you planning to stare at that elevator all night?” Nick’s voice cuts through the silence—dry, amused, clearly mocking me.

It takes me a moment to register that he’s moved. That he’s behind me now. I didn’t even hear his steps. Didn’t feel the shift in the room.

Everything inside me has been numb since the moment those elevator doors closed behind the woman I’d mentally declared my enemy—only to realize she was never a threat. Never a replacement. Just another reminder of how wrong I’ve been. Again.

I try to pull my soul back into my body, to drag my spirit back from the edges. But my heart is still racing, my thoughts spinning in too many directions.

And I can feel him now. His presence. His heat. His silence pressing into my back like a weight.

I don’t want to turn around. Not yet. I’m not sure if I can face him now. Not after everything I thought… again.

But I know I need to answer him. I came here to win him back and I plan to do it, whatever it takes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snap, throwing my hands in the air as I spin around to face him. “Of course I thought you were sleeping with her.”

My voice rises without my permission, every nerve in my body buzzing, every inch vibrating with frustration.

“What the hell was I supposed to think, huh, Nickolas?” I say his full name like a curse, stepping closer to him even though everything in me wants to run and hide.

My chest is heaving. My eyes sting. I hate how much emotion is bleeding out of me, how raw I feel, how exposed I’m under his gaze. And yet—I can’t stop. I can’t not feel this.

Not now. Not when I spent an eight-hour flight breaking apart from the inside, only to find another woman calling his name the moment I stepped into his apartment.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow just slightly, darkening with something I can’t name—anger, maybe. Pain.

Or worse, indifference.

He stays silent for a few seconds, the silence stretching long enough that I start to think he won’t even respond.

But…

“Oh, I don’t know, Sierra,” he finally says, voice coarse like a gravel under my skin. “I’ve never been in your position, so I don’t know what I would’ve thought.”

My mouth opens to snap something back, but he keeps going, cutting me off.

“But wait,” he adds, his tone sharpening, like a blade, „I did find my wife—my fucking wife—in another man’s apartment. In his shirt, and nothing else. After she spent the night there.”

His voice doesn’t rise like mine did. He doesn’t need to shout. The weight of his words lands with brutal precision, heavy enough to make my lungs forget to function. My anger falters. And all that’s left is the truth between us—ugly, sharp, and still bleeding.

Thank God. Because if it bleeds maybe, just maybe, I have a chance. We have a chance.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out hoarse, raw, like they’ve been stuck inside me for too long. My voice barely rises above a whisper.

I turn my gaze away from him, unable to hold his eyes a second longer. A single tear slips down my cheek, warm and heavy. I instinctively reach up to wipe it away, but my hand stops halfway. I realize that’s exactly what I’ve always done. Wiped it all away. Hidden my fears, tucked away my thoughts, swallowed my insecurities about him and other women.

But not this time. Not anymore. I lower my hand, and let the tear fall. Then I slowly lift my gaze back to his.