The next morning, Heather woke to the sound of activity in the kitchen. Mitchell was back, bustling around with enthusiasm.
As Heather stepped out of the bedroom, Mitchell glanced up and greeted her with a bright smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “Come try the banana oat cookies I just learned to make. They say it’s great for soothing cramps during your period.”
Heather froze momentarily, her gaze lingering on the scene before her. Then, she slowly made her way to the dining table and sat down. Her eyes searched Mitchell’s face, probing for answers.
“Where did you go last night?” she asked, her tone calm but pointed.
Mitchell’s cheerful expression faltered for a split second before he quickly looked away. Regaining his composure, he sat beside her, taking her hand in his own with a look of genuine concern.
“There was an emergency at work,” he explained softly. “I left for a bit while you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. Did you have a bad dream?”
The worry in his eyes was unmistakable, devoid of any pretense.
Heather’s heart twisted. She couldn’t understand how someone could compartmentalize love and desire, giving them to two different people. She didn’t respond, letting Mitchell pull her into his arms as he whispered soothing words.
Soon, he was calling his assistant, instructing him to book an appointment and bring over her medication.
Since being rescued, Heather had relied on medication to sleep. Even then, nightmares frequently dragged her back to that horrifying night—the acrid smell of alcohol, hands stained with blood…
