Chapter 424
Tyler spent most of the day with Naomi at her family’s home. By the time they left, the sky had turned dusky, and a cool breeze filtered in through the half-open car windows.
Naomi leaned her head gently against Tyler’s shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. “I really hope we can stay like this forever, Tyler.”
In the dim light of the car, her pale features looked soft, wistful. Tyler didn’t respond right away. His gaze was fixed on the road ahead, the night stretching out in silence.
Rain began to fall—soft at first, then steady. Drops streaked across the windshield, and the streetlights glowed like muted lanterns through the mist. Fallen leaves clung to the pavement, damp and motionless.
Naomi could feel it—that subtle detachment in Tyler’s presence. But she didn’t let go. She tightened her hold on his arm, resting more fully against him, as though willing the space between them to disappear.
“Can you forgive me, Tyler?” she asked quietly. She didn’t care how vulnerable she sounded. All that mattered was being close to him again. Deep down, she believed their bond could weather anything—that they just needed to move past the recent troubles and pick up where they left off.
Tyler’s voice broke the silence, flat and measured. “Let’s move on.”
He wasn’t reassuring her. He was diffusing the moment.
But Naomi didn’t notice—or chose not to. She smiled softly, clasping his hand. “I’m such a lucky girl.”
Tyler didn’t reply. Instead, his thoughts wandered elsewhere. Someone else’s name drifted through his mind, and his brows drew together in a faint frown. He turned his face away, hiding the expression before Naomi could see it.
At home, Olivia sat curled up on the couch with a textbook balanced on her lap. Despite having dropped out of school, she remained diligent, quietly pursuing her studies in the solitude of her room.
The only sounds were the rustle of paper and the faint scratch of her pencil. It wasn’t a hobby—it was her way of reclaiming control, staying grounded.
Outside, the wind had picked up. The branches swayed violently, and a low howl echoed against the windowpane.
Her phone buzzed, interrupting the quiet.
It was a message from Claude:
[It’s a windy night.]
She stared at the screen for a long moment. Lately, she had avoided responding to him. Claude had crossed a line, blurring the boundaries of friendship in a way she wasn’t comfortable with. And yet tonight, the stillness in her room, the whispering wind outside—it made the silence feel heavier.
Almost without thinking, she replied:
[It is. The wind’s strong tonight.]
A pause. Then another message:
[Are you scared?]
Her eyes widened slightly. How did he know? Windstorms always left her uneasy, a leftover habit from childhood. She hadn’t told many people about it.
Trying to brush it off, she typed back:
[I’m not.]
A small lie. But she wanted to sound stronger than she felt.
Then another text appeared:
[Turn on the TV. There’s an old movie that might help distract you.]
Olivia blinked in surprise. He wasn’t trying to push his way in—just offering something simple. Comfort.
For the first time in days, she smiled faintly.
And for a little while, the wind didn’t seem quite so loud.