Chapter 2

The venom in her words gave me pause. “I didn’t take you for the religious type,” I said, furrowing my brow.

Zoe simply shrugged. “I’m not, really. But rain wasn’t forecast today, and now it’s downpouring… out of nowhere…” Her voice trailed off meaningfully. I opened and closed my mouth, unsure how to answer whatever she implied.

Before I could respond, Noah appeared. “Hannah, there you are,” he said, his eyes widening as he took in my appearance. “Goddess, you’re covered in mud! What happened?”

I pursed my lips, wiping water from my eyes. “I fell.”

Noah eyed me, his expression softening slightly. Finally, he muttered, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Without waiting for a response, he took my arm and led me away from Zoe, whose gaze I felt burning into my back. She was undoubtedly furious that she, too, was soaked, and Noah barely acknowledged her. Honestly, I wasn't sure he even recognized her in her current state.

Noah guided me down the hall, up the stairs, and to my bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door. The room was blissfully silent, the door effectively shutting out the dance hall’s chaos.

“We need to get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold,” he said brusquely.

I nodded, feeling oddly small under his intense gaze. Before I could protest, he began tugging at my muddy robes, his movements quick and forceful. I winced as he pulled too hard on a tangled section of my sash, caked with mud from my fall.

“Noah, I can do it myself,” I protested weakly.

He ignored me, undressing me with a clinical efficiency. “Do you have something else to wear?” he asked.

“Plenty,” I said stiffly.

He nodded and continued. His fingers brushed my collarbone as he parted my robe, revealing my lace bra. My face reddened; I moved to quickly close the robe, but this only frustrated him.

“We don’t have time for this, Hannah.”

“Then let me do it myself.”

“I’m trying to help—”

Suddenly, as he yanked at my robe, I felt something shift in my pocket. Too late, I remembered Noah’s offering. The bundle slipped out, hitting the floor with a wet splat. The soaked cloth fell open, revealing its contents.

Noah froze, his eyes fixed on the object. “What’s—” he began, but his voice cut off sharply as he recognized it: his offering.

Before he could reach for it, I snatched it up. It was a folded piece of paper, miraculously dry thanks to the protective cloth. With trembling fingers, I opened it.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the photograph. It was old, a bit worn, but clear. Two teenagers smiled at the camera, their arms wrapped around each other, cheeks pressed together. One was unmistakably a younger Noah. And the girl beside him, her face radiant with joy, was Zoe.