Chapter 2

Natalie’s POV

I drove back to the estate. As soon as I took off my shoes in the foyer, laughter drifted from the living room.

I pushed the door open.

My favorite armchair was buried under Chloe’s designer coat and purse. Two used coffee mugs sat on the glass table, and the sheer curtains had been pulled wide open, flooding the hardwood with harsh sunlight.

Julian walked out holding a glass of water.

Leo trailed behind him, a cookie hanging from his mouth.

Both of them froze when they saw me.

I said nothing. I swapped into my slippers and walked straight toward the stairs, leaving behind the suffocating atmosphere of their little domestic scene.

The wooden steps creaked softly beneath my feet, counting down the days until my departure.

Chloe stood up from the sofa, wearing an apologetic smile that looked entirely rehearsed.

"Oh, Natalie, I'm so sorry! I didn't know this was your private room. Julian said it was empty, so I just made myself comfortable."

"It's fine," Julian said, setting the glass down. He shot me a warning glance. "Don't cause a scene, Natalie."

I didn't utter a word. I picked up the mugs from the table and stacked them neatly, acting as if I hadn't heard a thing.

Leo tugged on Chloe’s hand, looking up with a pout. "Chloe, Mommy’s clothes are so plain. It was so embarrassing when she used to come to preschool."

"Don't say that, sweetie," Chloe scolded softly, patting his head. But the smirk tugging at her lips gave her away.

"By the way," Julian said casually, as if delivering an afterthought, "Chloe will be staying here for a few days. I had the guest room next to the master suite cleaned out. Her bags are already upstairs."

Leo clapped his hands and jumped with joy. "Yay! Chloe can play with me every day!"

He turned to glare at me with open disgust. "Mommy, you're so boring. You never play video games with me. Chloe builds Legos with me all the time."

Julian finally looked at me, his tone purely informative. "She's just staying for a bit. Consider this a heads-up."

"Okay," I said quietly, turning to head upstairs.

Chloe picked up her purse from the sofa, pretending to hesitate. "Actually, maybe I should just go to a hotel. I don't want to make things awkward or make anyone upset."

"You're not going anywhere," Julian said firmly, his hand resting securely on her shoulder. "This house was originally bought for you anyway."

My footsteps paused on the landing. I didn't turn around, though my knuckles turned white around the mug in my hands.

"Take Chloe’s luggage up to her room," Julian ordered, extending a set of keys toward me.

I looked at the keys for two long seconds. "I'm not feeling well. Carry them yourself."

Julian frowned. "It's just a couple of bags—"

"I said, I'm not feeling well." I met his gaze, my voice devoid of emotion. "If she wants to stay, carry them yourself. If you don't want to, she doesn't have to stay."

The air in the foyer froze.

Chloe gently touched Julian’s sleeve, her voice dripping with innocence. "It's fine, Julian. I'll carry them myself. Don't push her."

In the end, I took the keys anyway.

I dragged the heavy designer suitcases up the stairs without expression. When the wheel caught on a step, my old knee injury flared with a sharp, throbbing ache. I paused, steadied myself, and kept climbing.

When I finished and walked back down, the scene in the living room stopped me dead in my tracks.

Leo had raided the back of my closet and pulled out the four hand-knit wool scarves I had spent years making. He was carefully draping them around Chloe’s neck, one by one.

"Chloe, this cream one looks so pretty on you! Take it!" He wrapped it around her, then picked up a soft gray one. "Take this one too! Take all of them!"

Four scarves piled up around Chloe's neck like trophies.

I had spent an entire month every winter knitting those scarves by hand, starting from when Leo turned one until he turned four. Four scarves. Four months of careful, agonizing work.

I had learned every stitch from online tutorials, unraveling and re-knitting them countless times, pricking my fingers until they bled.

I had planned to give them to him on his eighteenth birthday, telling him the story behind every single year.

The color drained from my face. My fingers gripped the doorframe until my knuckles ached.

"Leo," Julian spoke up, his tone mildly disapproving. "Don't give away other people's things."

"They're just stupid scarves," Leo whined dismissively. "Mommy never wears them anyway. Why can't I give them to Chloe?"

I walked over, unwrapped the scarves from Chloe’s neck one by one, folded them neatly, and placed them on the armrest of the sofa.

"They're not worth anything," I whispered, my voice as faint as a sigh. "Give them away if you want."

I turned and walked up to my room. The moment the door clicked shut, I slid down against the wood until I was sitting on the cold floor.

Five more things to do.

Just a little longer, and I’d be gone.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and forced the tears back into my chest.