Chapter 11

Delia woke up with her heart pounding fast, a tightness in her chest like something had just scared the hell out of her. The moment she came to, her first instinct was to check if someone was beside her. She reached out automatically. Nothing. Curtis wasn't there. Panic rushed back in like a tidal wave, fueled by the remnants of that awful nightmare. She bolted upright, breathing heavy, chest heaving. Her eyes darted around until she finally caught the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. He was still here. He hadn't left her. Her whole body loosened up instantly. She hugged her knees in bed, buried her face in them, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. Even after coming back to life, she couldn't shake off those haunting memories. If anything, every fear, every ounce of pain from before had become even sharper. She was terrified all this would vanish-like just another cruel dream. The bathroom door eased open. Curtis came out in his wheelchair, dressed in a fresh shirt, his hair still damp, a light scent of soap clinging to him. As soon as he looked up, his gaze met Delia's wide, panic-filled eyes staring straight at him. The second she saw him, she tossed the covers aside, jumped out of bed barefoot, and rushed over without thinking. And before he could react, she threw her arms around him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. She needed to feel him-to know this was real. The warmth from his skin, the scent of him, it all grounded her. Her hug was so tight, like letting go would mean losing him forever. Curtis froze for a moment, then slowly relaxed, letting her cling to him. He could tell how shaken she was just through that embrace. He said nothing, only lifted a hand and gently patted her back. Comforting her, wordlessly. A long silence passed before he finally spoke. "Couldn't sleep?" Delia shook her head slightly, still holding on to him, her voice muffled, almost whispering. "Yeah... had a really bad dream." "I dreamt you didn't want me anymore. I looked everywhere, but I couldn't find you..." She wasn't exactly lying, but she wasn't saying everything either. Curtis's eyes flickered, but he didn't call her out. He still needed more time to get clarity from Noah's investigation. Until then, he wasn't going to push her. "I won't," he said simply, his arms tightening around her just a bit. He'd made that decision last night-no matter what lay ahead, he'd stay by her side. After a few minutes, they slowly pulled apart. Delia's face was flushed as she headed to the bathroom to wash up. Curtis had already gone downstairs, giving her a breather from the awkwardness. When she came out, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. One glance at the caller ID and her expression darkened. Isabelle. Speak of the devil. Last time around, this was when Isabelle started getting in her head-pretending to care, but constantly urging her to divorce Curtis. Now that she thought about it, every one of those "caring" words had been laced with manipulation. Delia took a steady breath, shoving her anger back down before answering. "Hello?" Her voice was calm. Isabelle's bright, overly concerned voice came through instantly. "Hey sis, how are you feeling? Did the talk with Curtis go okay yesterday?" Sounding like she genuinely wanted Delia to be happy and "free." Delia gave a tiny, cold smile that didn't reach her eyes but kept her voice neutral. "You seem more eager for my divorce than I am." Isabelle clearly didn't see that coming. There was a short pause before she gave a couple of awkward laughs and covered with, "Of course not, I just care about you." "You kept saying how miserable you were with him and how badly you wanted out, didn't you?" "Really?" Delia let out a light scoff. Thinking about what Isabelle was probably plotting, she lost all patience for pretending. "He didn't sign it." "What? Why not?" Isabelle's pitch shot up, but she quickly caught herself and lowered her voice again. "I mean, didn't he already agree before? What happened? Did he do something again? Did he threaten you? You can tell me. Nathan and I've got your back!" Delia could almost picture her sister's fake concerned face-it was laughable. She responded calmly, her tone flat, "He said he doesn't want to divorce anymore. Nothing I can do about it." "What? That's not okay!" Isabelle's voice had that anxious edge again. "Listen, you can't waver now. You've got to be firm about this. How about you come back today? We can talk it through properly. Nathan's really worried too..." Nathan again. Delia's eyes flickered with irritation. She'd had enough of this nonsense and cut her off mid-sentence, "I'm busy. Let's talk another time." Without waiting for a reply, she hung up right away. She set the phone down, took a breath to compose herself, then turned and headed downstairs. Curtis was already seated at the dining table, right at the head. He hadn't started eating yet-just quietly sitting there. When he saw Delia coming down, his eyes naturally drifted to her. That look alone cleared up the lingering annoyance in her heart. She walked over with a bright, sweet smile, "Waiting for me to have breakfast together?" Curtis looked slightly flustered. He quickly averted his gaze, grabbed his glass of milk as if nothing had happened, and said, "It just got ready." That clearly forced calm of his made Delia want to laugh. She plopped down beside him with a playful grin, blinking up at him. "Oh yeah?" Curtis's grip on the glass tightened a bit. He pressed his lips together but didn't confirm or deny it. The slight redness creeping up his ears gave him away. Watching him like this warmed Delia's heart. "Come on, let's eat. From now on, we should always have breakfast together, okay?" She paused, her eyes twinkling as she added, "And if you're worried about me or anything... just say it. That'd actually make me happier." Curtis looked up, meeting her eyes-and something in her gaze caught him off guard. His heart gave a weird little lurch. "...Okay." He mumbled the word so softly, it barely registered. Delia nodded contentedly. That's more like it. Couples should be bold with each other. She ate slowly, every now and then sneaking a look at Curtis as he quietly ate across from her. He had such a clean, graceful way of eating-calm, quiet, with almost no sound. But that faint tiredness always lingered in his brows. The coldness, the long years of being looked down on... all of it gave him a fragile air. Delia bit her lip. She hadn't done enough yet. Even if she was making the effort to get close, trying to show her love-how could that ever erase the hurt she'd once caused? She found herself wondering: after all this... had Curtis changed the way he saw her? Setting down her fork, she cupped her face in her hands. A beat passed. Then she looked at Curtis and asked softly, "Hey... how do you feel about me now?" Curtis froze for just a second. Then he went back to normal-but his chewing noticeably slowed down.