Noah didn’t sleep well in the days that followed. Not because of shadows in the street or the persistent feeling of being watched, but because of Damien. Because of his veiled warning. Because of the indirect mention of Sebastian.

He slept poorly because his worst nightmare was no longer just a memory —it was beginning to take shape in the present.

Every night he woke up with the same thought: they found me.

Nicholas, unaware of much of that internal turmoil, arrived early that morning at Noah’s apartment. He did so naturally and with care, with a presence that didn’t demand space.

He brought coffee and knocked on the door only twice.

“Hey,” he said when he saw him.

Noah nodded and stepped aside to let him in. He smiled by reflex and kissed him —a soft, everyday gesture— even though he still hadn’t told him that Damien had spoken to him. The secret weighed heavily, but he hadn’t yet found the way —or the moment— to open it.

Affection had become more frequent lately, calmer, as if they were both building something patiently. That day, Noah was also planning to formally introduce him to his mother. As someone who mattered.

Claire was awake, sitting on the couch by the window, wrapped in a blanket. She looked up when she heard footsteps.

“Good morning, Mrs. Harper,” Nicholas greeted her with genuine warmth.

“Good morning, Nicholas,” she replied. “Thank you for coming.”

But Noah frowned. He was supposed to introduce him. He was supposed to say his name out loud. What was happening?

“W–wait…” he said. “Do you know each other?”

Claire exchanged a brief glance with Nicholas. There was no surprise in either of them —but there was caution.

“A little, yes,” she answered. “More than you know.”

The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable, charged with something Noah couldn’t quite name.

Nicholas carefully set the coffee down on the table.

“Noah…” he began.

“Since when?” Noah interrupted, his voice low but firm.

Nicholas took a deep breath, as if he had rehearsed that answer too many times already.

“Since before we met at the gym.”

Noah took a step back, as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet.

“What?!”

“Not out of curiosity,” Nicholas clarified immediately. “It was circumstantial. I spoke with your mother years ago. I helped her with paperwork, contacts… everything necessary for you both to stay safe.”

Noah let out a short, humorless laugh.

“And how did you know she was my mother?”

Nicholas didn’t defend himself or justify it.

“Sebastian Cross,” he said.

The name fell like a blunt blow, and Noah went pale.

“So all of this…?” His voice trembled. “Was it planned? Don’t tell me that you… you… helped Sebastian get me hired?”

“I can explain,” Nicholas replied at once. “I didn’t know about your connection to him. Damien was the one who contacted me first. He wanted you working for his boss. I didn’t know that you and Sebastian…” He stopped. “I didn’t find out until months later. And I never thought he would hurt you the way he did.”

Claire stood up with difficulty.

“Noah,” she said. “Please, sit down.”

But her son didn’t.

“What else do you know?” he demanded of Nicholas. “Do you know what he did to me? Do you know why I ran?”

“Yes,” Nicholas replied, his head slightly lowered but his gaze unwavering. “I know enough to have wanted to tell you the truth from the beginning.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because I felt it wasn’t my place,” Nicholas said. “And because I was afraid of losing the chance to know you… as you. Not as the victim of that bastard.”

That was what hurt the most, and Noah looked away immediately, feeling betrayed.

“You didn’t decide with me,” he said. “You took that choice away from me.”

Nicholas nodded, frustrated with himself. He didn’t try to come closer, much less touch him.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” he added. “I won’t insist.”

Silence filled the space again —dense, uncomfortable— but it was Claire who broke it, sitting back down on the couch. Her health had been fragile lately; she hadn’t been feeling well.

“Noah,” she said calmly. “May I say something?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

“I’ve lived a long time pretending danger doesn’t exist,” she continued. “I know how to recognize when someone approaches with twisted intentions… and when they do so with care.”

She looked at Nicholas.

“He doesn’t look at you like someone he wants to possess, like that man did,” she said. “He truly loves you.”

Noah clenched his fists and looked at her with a hint of disappointment.

“And lying to me is also protecting me?”

“No, sweetheart,” Claire replied. “It’s a clumsy way of trying not to hurt you.”

Nicholas lowered his gaze to the floor, clenching his fists tightly at his sides.

“I’m not innocent,” he whispered. “But nothing I feel for you was born from Sebastian. Or from your past.”

Claire took Noah’s hand.

“You decide what to do with this,” she said softly. “But Nicholas will never be him.”

Noah closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When he opened them, there were no tears —only exhaustion and frustration.

“I need time,” he said quietly.

Nicholas nodded.

“Alright.”

He headed for the door. Before leaving, he stopped.

“No matter what you decide,” he said, “I’ll make sure you’re safe. Even if I never see you again.”

And the door closed.

Noah let himself fall onto the couch. Claire moved closer and gently took one of his hands.

“You care,” she said. “You love him.”

Noah nodded, finally breaking.

“I didn’t want to trust again,” he whispered.

Claire hugged him carefully, feeling guilty for having lied to him about her connection to Nicholas.

“And yet you did,” she replied. “That doesn’t make you weak.”