Hannah Noah was silent for a long moment, his expression utterly unreadable in the dim glow of the parking lot lights. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even. “We don’t need to talk about love right now, Hannah.” I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. Of course he w
At the far end of the room, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile stood beside a whiteboard, scribbling something down as she nodded along to whatever was being said. As my gaze swept over the group, a few of the women noticed my presence and fell silent, their expressions morphing
Hannah The next day, my phone buzzed with an incoming call as I was brushing my hair out in front of the mirror. Picking up the phone, a knot of dread instantly formed in the pit of my stomach as I stared at the name flashing across the screen. Emma. The last time we had spoken, things hadn’t
Me? She was envious of me? I didn’t believe it. I opened my mouth to protest, but Emma held up a hand, effectively silencing me. “Please, let me finish,” she begged. “It wasn’t until recently that I realized how toxic and damaging that mindset was—not just for my self-esteem, but for my overall
Hannah I squared my shoulders, steeling myself as I approached Noah’s idling SUV. With a sharp rap on the tinted window, I made my presence known, watching as he startled slightly before rolling it down. “Can I help you?” he asked, his tone clipped. I arched a brow. “You’re the one lurking out
Part of that was true—the clear-headed part. I had picked up a slight obsession with alcohol since Noah and I had gotten married, and had often used red wine to dull my frayed nerves. But not anymore. Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw Noah’s eyes flick briefly to my belly befor
Hannah I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my hands trembling slightly as I drew in a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, almost as though I was afraid of seeing my own skin, I lifted the hem of my oversized t-shirt and bared the pale expanse of my midriff to my own scrutinizing gaze. There
Hannah I strode through the front doors of the soup kitchen, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement. This was it—my first real foray into volunteer work, into proving that I could be more than just a pretty face trailing after my husband. I was determined to make a good impres