Chapter 40

The worst part of traveling to the other side of the Earth on a regular basis is that the journey back home is way too long to bear. Especially when it gives you hours to think about everything you've done wrong and how you could have been there for the one person that's loved you the most. Fifteen hours on a plane, and before that, trains, buses, cars ... I travelled for 18 hours nonstop, but I barely slept.

I should have tried to process the news, but all I could think about was: I'll never see my mom again. The last time I spoke to her was the day before my birthday, she tried to convince me to come home so that we could celebrate, but I refused, claiming Noah would never give me the time off. It was a lie, he probably would have, I just never asked.

Within five years, I have never once gone back home. Never. I just go from one hotel to the other. If I've seen my loved ones, it was only because they accommodated me by traveling to wherever I was. That's what my mom had decided to do, in the end. Because she couldn't convince me to go home, she'd decided to come to me instead.

I could have done so much more for my mom, yet I chose to run away and be selfish. At the very least, I could have made sure she knew how much I loved her. I used to, but in the past 5 years I've been so numb inside that I haven't been able to express anything to anyone. Not my mom, not my dad, not my friends.

What kind of daughter leaves her parents without ever going back even for a week? What kind of daughter drags her parents halfway through the globe just to see her, because she doesn't want to set foot in the Godforsaken town she's escaped?

When I got out of the cab, and my eyes landed on my childhood home, my eyes inevitably filled with tears. At the same time, flashbacks of that night 5 years ago flooded through my memory, as if I'd inadvertently unlocked the Pandora's box I kept them in.

I saw Sebastian unhinged, punching Tony through his skull even when it was clear that he was pretty much dead. I saw the furious look in his blue eyes when he pushed me away, then the fleeting panic when he realized what he'd done to me and what his action might bring to. Days later, I found out Agents Ferrera and Durant had been found dead as well, shot in the head. Somehow, it had looked like they had had an argument amongst them, due to the kind of illicit affairs they had.

I never had the courage to talk to Dylan about it. Hell, I never faced anyone over what happened that night. As soon as I was able to stand on my own two feet, I quite simply left. I merely told my parents I needed to get away, and they understood. Even when I remained quiet for months, not answering phone calls or texts, my mom understood my need for space. And when I finally returned to the living, she welcomed me home like I'd never left. I guess that's what mothers are for, right? To make you feel loved even when you don't deserve it.

"It's ok," Noah's soft tone filled my ears as he pulled me into him for a gentle hug, "you can cry, I'm here."

"You need to go to HQ." I reminded him through tears. The only reason I'd allowed him to come with me was that he claimed he had to see top management about the next assignments.

He made a sound, like a small chuckle. "Come on, you know that was a lie."

I suspected it, I just didn't really argue. As selfish as it may sound, I kind of knew he just wanted to be there for me, and being cuddled and comforted by Noah throughout the long journey to my hometown was the one thing that allowed me not to break entirely. "Thank you." I murmured, my voice muffled by his chest.

"No biggie." He placed a small kiss on the top of my head.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled back, and nodded to myself more than to him. "I need to go inside."

"Sure." Noah grabbed my hand.

"Alone."

He shook his head, pulling me into him again. "You're not doing any of this alone, Vivian." Noah repeated – because he'd already told me the same thing throughout the travel. "I'm not here as anything in particular other than a friend, but I'm not leaving you on your own."

"Noah ..." I sobbed, trying hard not to burst out crying, but badly needing to. I did cry in his arms yesterday. When I read that text and the realization hit me, I slowly started breaking down and I cried my heart out. It was the ugliest crying I've ever done, mixed with anger and guilt, yet Noah remained there all the time, he comforted me through it.

"Don't think about it, just let me do this for you."

I nodded slowly against his chest, thanking him again. I clung onto him for dear life, because my legs were giving out as I cried, but he held me close. In the end, that was all I ever needed.

After a few minutes, I finally managed to regain my composure. I took a deep breath and stepped back from Noah's embrace, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. I looked up at him and gave him a small smile of gratitude. "I'm ready."

He nodded. "Let's go, then."

I took another deep breath, and turned back to look at my childhood home. Not knowing how to force my feet to move, I searched for Noah's hand. He promptly took mine in his, letting me crawl back into his arms. I didn't want to cry again, but I probably would soon restart. "If you don't move me, I'll probably remain frozen here." I mentioned, voice always muffled by his chest.

His chest which rumbled slightly as he let out a tiny chuckle. "If I bring you inside bridal style, your dad's gonna ask some questions."

I couldn't help but smile lightly. "He'd probably be glad."

"Really? His little girl in the arms of a man he's never met?"

"I'm sure it can't be worse than his daughter's best friend of 20 years, whom he'd entrusted said daughter to, turning out to be toxic and violent." I mused, unable to avoid the thought of Chris and what happened in this same house the last time we saw each other. As if on cue, Noah brought me closer to him protectively. I'd have lingered more in that embrace, but I couldn't leave my dad alone with his grief any longer.

I took another deep breath, and forced my legs to move for real this time, heading to the front door, but never leaving Noah's arms. I didn't care about appearances right now, he was pretty much a crutch I was clinging onto and I couldn't avoid it.

The familiar creak of the front door echoed through the empty hallway as I pushed it open. My eyes needed a few moments to adjust to the dim light. The scent of freshly baked cookies that used to greet me upon entering was replaced by the stale air of abandonment.

I took a deep breath and braced myself for what was to come - the painful memories, the sorrowful silence, and the daunting task of sorting through my mother's belongings.

We crossed the short distance that separated the entrance from the living room, but nothing could have ever prepared me for the sight I met. My father looked just as he did the last time I saw him a few months ago, when he and my mom reached me while Noah and I were doing a photoshoot in Argentina. However, now he seemed older and wearier.

He was sitting on her favorite spot on the sofa, the place where she spent many hours knitting or reading a book while he watched TV. They were never the most active couple, but whatever they did, they did it together. Right now the TV was off, the room was barely lit, and my dad was sitting there, staring into the void.

The feeble sunrays of a cloudy day could barely break through the thickness of the curtains, but even if they had, he wouldn't have noticed. Something told me he'd remained there in that same position since last night.

I walked over to him, and crouched before him. "Dad," I called, tears in my eyes, hands on his knees. "I'm here."

"Vivian." He called in a raucous voice, which was a clear sign he hadn't spoken in a long time. His eyes glistened and, after a few moments of uncertainty, he pulled me into a tight embrace. I could feel his tears on my shoulder. "We lost her." Was all he said.

"She's always gonna be with us." I murmured, in a vain attempt at soothing him. I wish I could believe my own words. Whatever we tell each other, nothing will ever be the same again.

💫💫

I was never a fan of nosy people, but now as ever the zealousness of my mom's book club friends, the same women she spent most of her time away from my father with, came in handy. The three of them took over the preparations as soon as they arrived, for which I was thankful, because I'd been struggling hard, even with Noah's help.

"You sure you don't wanna eat anything?" He asked me as we set on the porch swing at the front of the house.

"I'm fine." I croaked out, unable to speak. I spent the past 2 days accepting condolences and listening to people talk about what a great woman my mother was. I was beyond exhausted, but I couldn't even think about sleeping, let alone eating.

"You've barely touched two apples in two days." Noah pointed out, rubbing my shoulder.

"I'm not hungry."

"It's about nutrition at this point, not hunger." He said sarcastically, pulling slightly back. "I'm gonna get you something from the kitchen before the caterers wrap everything up."

He tried to stand up, but I tugged at his hand, tears pooling in my eyes. "Please, don't." I pretty much begged. "Don't ... don't leave me. I ... I can't be alone right now." I was asking a lot of him, I knew that. He hasn't left my side for a single moment since we got here, but I didn't really have a right to ask so much of him, given the circumstances. Even without a relationship, he was still my boss. You don't normally dump all your grief on your boss.

"It's gonna take 5 minutes at most." Noah mentioned, albeit not moving. "I'm not leaving," he kissed the top of my head, "just give me five minutes."

I didn't want to, I felt like even 5 minutes on my own would cost me more than I could bear, but in the end, I agreed. Slowly, I nodded, turning away and bracing myself. Noah left a moment later. The funeral was over, but some people were still in the house, either comforting my dad or telling stories about my mom.

She was an active member of the community, everyone reminded me, she'll be dearly missed. Those were the most used phrases, which would have made me believe they were all formalities, but I knew everybody loved my mom.

She was a free spirit, a sweet person that helped wherever she could, there was no doubt many people loved her. Still, ultimately, nobody could miss her like my dad and I will. The idea of leaving him alone here broke my heart, but I couldn't find it in me to stay longer than necessary.

Noah said he doesn't care about assignments, he already spoke to management and we'll resume work whenever. They only agreed because he's the best photographer they have, a lot of clients demand him and him only.

"I'm sorry for your mom." I could have felt many things at the sound of that voice, but dread wasn't the one I expected. I shuddered, even though his voice betrayed none of the anger and possessiveness that had driven us apart. Before I could move, Chris came to sit beside me, as if daring me to leave.

"Thanks." I muttered, bracing myself and better hiding my face behind the blanket that was wrapped around my frame.

"I really am." He continued, sitting up straight, not even looking at me. "She was a great woman."

I didn't know what to say. The last time we saw each other, he almost killed me, yet now there he was, sitting beside me like nothing had ever happened. When he stretched a hand, as if to grab me, I felt a jolt of fear run through my body, which compelled me to slip further away from him, even without standing up.

When he noticed, our eyes met. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something in his gaze, something that made me feel like he was still capable of hurting me.

However, Chris averted his gaze, heaving a deep sigh. "I'm also sorry about ... well, you know ..."

"Which part?" I blurted out, unable to retain myself. "The part where you manipulate me and control me, or the part where you try to kill me?"

When his jaw clenched, I realized nothing had changed, or not much. "Don't be like that." Chris muttered, his anger seeping through for a moment.

"Why are you here?" I asked, feeling back to five years ago again, when I was alone with a man I thought I knew, a man I thought I could trust, waiting for someone to come rescue me. The difference was, this time I knew better than to let him win.