Page 28 of Noelle's Secret Admirer

Suddenly, the door opened, and Max’s presence filled the room. He said nothing, just laid down next to me on the floor and pulled me into his arms. As his arms tightened around me, a strangled sob escaped my lips.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his voice low and thick with emotion. “You’re not alone, Noelle. You’ve never been alone. I’ve always been with you.”

Chapter Twelve

Maxwell

Timeslippedawayfromme as Noelle surrendered to my hold, lying quietly on the floor until her trembling ceased and she eventually drifted into sleep. With careful movements, I detached myself and lifted her in my arms. She murmured something unintelligible as I gently laid her down in her bedroom. I couldn’t bear to leave her. As she sobbed, I had reiterated my promise not to abandon her, time and time again. Noelle had become my entire world, and I was responsible for shattering hers. It gutted me.

The look of utter devastation on her face as she fled my shop had nearly been my undoing. The subsequent hours of uncertainty were agonizing. My father had cornered me, threatening me with a fury I had seldom seen, while my mother shed tears of disappointment – her usual response to the full spectrum of emotions, from joy to anger to sorrow. This time, her tears reflected my downfall. I had disappointed everyone who meant anything to me.

Yet, amid the chaos, I was at a loss for words to ease the situation. Despite what Noelle had discovered, I was still scared to confess the full extent of my actions to my family. There was no way they could understand my reasons. I was certain everyone would think I was insane, so the only hope I had was that, eventually, Noelle might find it in her heart to forgive me.

She shifted, letting out a groan that was muffled by her pillow. Watching her sleep from inside her room was certainly different from watching from out her window. She stretched her arms over her head and looked down at the sleep clothes I had put on her the night before. That’s when she looked up and saw me.

“Why are you still here?” she questioned, her voice laced with disbelief.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”

“I told you I’d be okay.”

“But you weren’t being honest,” I countered.

I moved to sit beside her on the bed, the letters from her nightstand clasped in my hand.

“These letters are from me. I know I told you yesterday that I couldn’t find the words to explain myself, but I believe I now have them. The man you’ve been in a relationship with since December is the same person who penned these letters. It wasn’t until I read through these last night that I fully comprehended the terrifying prospect of losing you, and potentially, our family.”

“You read my letters?”

“To be fair,” I replied, trying to hide the guilt in my voice, “I was the one who wrote them.”

“Don’t remind me,” she said, her voice a bit hoarse. Her anger was palpable, even in her curt responses.

She rolled over, turning her back to me.

“Talk to me, Elfie, please.”

“I... I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

A knot tightened in my stomach as I pleaded, “Tell me you hate me, tell me you’ll never forgive me, just say something. Anything.”

“I can’t tell you I hate you,” she said slowly, “because as much as I keep trying to, I don’t.”

The words felt like a release, a breath of air that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

I reached for her shoulder and turned her to face me. Her eyes were brimming with tears, matching the sorrow I felt.

“You have no idea what a relief that is,” I confessed.

She didn’t return my smile, instead, she looked at me with a mixture of sadness and resignation.

“I’m not mad anymore. I’m sad and hurt. I understand being afraid of losing everything, but I suffered for so many years waiting for you. Dreaming of you, and then learning that everything we have been doing for the last few weeks, was all a lie. It hurt so much, Max.”

“It wasn’t a lie. Nothing I’ve said or done was ever a lie, Noelle. You are my world and you have been from the first day I saw you.” I held up one of the well-loved envelopes. “This is me. So is this one, and all the others sitting here. From the very first letter to the hundreds that came after, I wrote each one from my heart. I do own you and you own me. I can’t let you go, Noelle, I won’t. If you need time, I understand and I will give you that time, even though it will kill me.”

“Was it you? Were you the one outside my window?”

“Yes,” I admitted, my heart heavy.

---