Chapter 214: Saturday pt 2

NOAH

She was reframing my father’s cruelty as something I was responsible for managing.

If I were smaller, if I were quieter, if I were more “serious,” then he wouldn’t have to be mean. It was the logic of a victim, and for the first time, I saw it with terrifying clarity.

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the ceiling. The call went quiet as she waited for my usual surrender.

But this time the taste of surrender to anyone but Cassian… felt so… bitter.

“Are you done, Mom?” I asked. My voice was flat. Level.

“I beg your pardon?”

I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled quietly but slowly.

Then I spoke again, letting the heavy words roll of my tongue like paper.

“Until my father admits he was wrong about me,” I said, the words coming out of my mouth before I could second-guess them, “I won’t be coming back.”

The silence on the other end was absolute. It was the kind of silence that followed a gunshot.

My mother was processing a reality she hadn’t prepared for. This wasn’t how I talked. I was the one who absorbed the blows. I was the one who apologized for being hit. I was the one who made myself small enough to be forgiven.

“Noah—”

I hung up. I did it before she could respond, before she could pull me back into the orbit of her guilt. I set the phone down and lay back on the bed, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I stared at the white ceiling for a long time.

My hands were shaking—a fine, high-frequency tremor born of adrenaline and terror.

But underneath the fear, there was a rush. It felt like a breath I’d been holding since high school had finally been released. I had said a true thing, out loud, to the person who needed to hear it most.

The apartment felt different now. Empty, yes, but open.

The question What do I do now? arrived, but for once, it didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like a gap waiting to be filled.

Mason’s name popped into my head. I needed noise. I needed someone who didn’t know the blueprints of my family’s war. I texted him: Free today?

The response was immediate.

Mason: Duh. Meet me at the usual spot in twenty.

The “usual spot” was a mismatched café three blocks from Mason’s apartment, a place that smelled of roasted beans and rainy sidewalks. When I arrived, Mason was already mid-sentence, talking to a very confused-looking barista about a girl named Priya—or maybe it was Jess.

“Noah! My man!” he shouted, waving me over. He didn’t ask how I was; he just launched into a twenty-minute update on his love life, his upcoming promotion, and a conspiracy theory about the office coffee machine.

I sat there, nodding occasionally, letting the warm ambient noise of the café wash over me. It was grounding to be near another human being who asked nothing of me except that I listen to his chaos.

But then, Mason paused. He took a long sip of his latte and looked at me. Truly looked at me. The performance of the “chaotic friend” vanished, replaced by a rare, startling sincerity.

“You’re never around, dude,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation, just an observation. “I see you at the office, but that’s it. We used to get drinks on Fridays. Now you’re just… gone. Is Wolfe working you that hard, or what?”

I felt a flush creep up my neck. I managed to keep my voice casual. “I’m fine. Just busy. You know how he is.”

Mason didn’t look convinced. He reached across the table and put his hand on mine, his expression shifting into something deeply serious. “Hey. I’m your friend. You know that, right? You can tell me things.”

“What? I know that. What are you—”

“Noah.” Mason squeezed my hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend with me. I know something’s going on. I’ve been watching you lately, and I just…”

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

My stomach dropped into my shoes. What does he know? Did he see me at the park? Did he hear the rumors about the Metropolitan Club?

Did he know about the dinner? My mind ran through the inventory of my secrets at lightning speed, each one feeling like a ticking bomb.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. My voice was level, but I could feel the familiar stutter catching in the back of my throat. I tried to look him in the eye, but my vision was starting to blur with panic.

“Noah,” Mason said, his eyes full of genuine, heartbreaking concern. “You’re so kind. You let people walk all over you, and you never say anything. I’ve been watching you with him, and I need to ask you something. I need you to be honest with me.”

I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was being crushed by the same weight that had flattened me in the park.

He knows, I thought. He knows everything.

“Mason—” I started, my voice cracking.

“Look at me,” Mason said, leaning in. “Is your boss bullying you at work?”

I froze. My mouth opened, then closed again. The panic, which had been a towering wave a second ago, suddenly crashed into a puddle of pure, bewildering confusion.

“Eh?” I managed.

Mason nodded solemnly, his grip on my hand tightening. “I see the way he looks at you, Noah. Like you’re a problem he’s trying to solve. He’s cold, he’s demanding, and you’re just… you’re so polite to him. I’m worried he’s creating a hostile work environment. Is he being mean to you? You can tell me. We can go to HR together.”

HR? Like that would even do anything.

I stared at him. I looked at the sincerity in his eyes, the absolute conviction that I was being victimized by a corporate tyrant. Which honestly wasn’t too wrong but he was about a hundred Chapters too late.

I thought about Cassian’s hand in my hair. I thought about him squatting on the pavement in a city park to tell me how to breathe. I thought about the way he’d whispered until I met him into the quiet of the night.

A hysterical sort of laugh bubbled up in my chest. I fought it down, though a small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

“Bullying me?” I repeated.

“It’s okay, Noah,” Mason whispered, patting my hand. “We’ll get through this.”

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