A Fragile Return

CHAPTER 15: A FRAGILE RETURN

RACHEL'S POV

The moment I hear the doctor say I’m officially discharged, a part of me feels relieved, but the other part? It scoffs. Rest? As if. The doctor emphasizes that I need to avoid any form of stress and stay away from work for at least a week. That won't happen in any way.

I force a polite smile and thank him, but deep down, I know there’s no escaping the chaos that’s already brewing around me. No one would even believe I need rest. Not Noah. Not anyone in that house or at work if I want to get paid by the end of the month.

After finishing the formalities at the hospital — the bills had already been taken care of as I was told — I step outside, the crisp air brushing against my skin as I make my way to the car waiting to take me home. Home. The word feels foreign. It doesn’t hold warmth or comfort—only uncertainty.

When I arrive, the scent of freshly baked bread and spices fills the air. The Chef is busy exploring his options again.  As I step inside, I hear his voice before I see him.

   “Madam, you are back!" He quickly approaches me and holds my arm gently almost as if he is scared that I might faint again. 

   "Good morning, Marco."

   "There is nothing good about the morning, child. You should have stayed in that hospital bed for another week if you were just going to ignore the doctor’s orders,” he complains as he lets me go to quickly attend to what he is preparing.

I pause mid-step, caught between amusement and guilt. If I had stayed, who would have come to visit? But of course, I do not tell this to him because it is unnecessary. 

Marco comes back and stands by the kitchen island, arms crossed, his expression a mix of concern and mild irritation.

  “I’m fine. I promise,” I say, waving him off, but he’s not having any of it.

  “I saw you yesterday morning, remember?” he continues, his voice gentler now. “I wanted to stop you, but seeing how determined you were...I just couldn't."

I swallow hard and then sigh. A little bit of warmth fills my heart as I am relieved that there is someone else who cares about me. His concern feels genuine. He doesn’t look at me with contempt or indifference.

  “Come, sit,” he insists, guiding me toward the dining table. “You should be resting, not standing here pretending to be strong.”

I let out a breath and took a seat, my body still sluggish from the medications. “I’m really okay.”

He scoffs. “Of course you are. You are the strongest woman ever,” he says sarcastically and he isn't far from the truth.

I smile faintly at his sarcasm, watching as he busies himself in the kitchen. Within minutes, the soft clatter of utensils and the comforting aroma of warm broth fill the room.

“So, where’s Noah?” I ask after a moment, trying to sound indifferent.

 

“At work. I saw him leave this morning. He said something urgent came up so he has to attend to it." he replies without hesitation.

   "I thought he was going to visit you, but...” he pauses, and I feel my stomach turn at the bitter reality that hit me. I intertwine my fingers and close my eyes as I exhale heavily.

The chef must notice my sudden quietness because he leans against the counter and observes me carefully. “Madam,” he starts, his tone cautious, “I am sorry if I am overstepping my boundaries, but please, you should know that I am only doing this because I care about you. I nod. "How are things between you and Master Noah?”

He sighs as he ladles the steaming broth into a bowl. “I mean, how is your marriage holding up?”

I hesitate, fingers curling against the fabric of my dress. How am I supposed to answer that? That my husband barely acknowledges me? That I’m stuck in a loveless marriage, trying to understand a man who wants nothing to do with me?

Instead of answering, I let out a short, humorless laugh. “What do you think?”

The chef places the bowl in front of me before pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. “I think,” he says slowly, “that Master Noah is a difficult man for you, and you are trying to get used to the kind of man that he is.”

That’s an understatement.

“But,” he continues, “he’s not impossible to understand."

   "How long have you known him?"

   "He is currently 28. I started working for him when he turned 24 so  I have known him for 4 years." He replies.

    "What has he been like ever since you got to know him? Did he act this way towards you?" I am genuinely confused. I hear him chuckle,

   "Kind of. He is an extremely toxic introvert. He didn't associate himself with me at first and only ate my food once in a while, he would only inform me a day ahead whenever he needed to eat my meals."

   "So you mean he didn't eat your meals every day?"

    "Yeah, he rarely stayed at home as he was always going to his family house outside the city."

    "He has a family?" 

Marco raises a brow at me and I shrug innocently, "I am just surprised to know."

   "Yeah, he does. He is from the Calloway family."

I am stunned to hear that. The what now?

   "You mean THE CALLOWAY that we all know?"

   "Yeah."

   "But his name isn't Noah Calloway." 

His name is Noah Sinclair.

    "Yeah, for some reasons best known to him 3 years ago, he switched the names. And that was when he stopped going over to the family house and insisted that I should cook for him regularly." 

That is suspicious. Something had definitely happened that made him do such. 

   "Whatever that must have happened, do you think that it has anything to do with his current behavior?"

   "I wouldn't say it made him like this. It just added to the layer, making it thicker than it should have been. That is all I know. Master Noah is a very private person and he is not that hard to be with if you work with him based on his rules."

  "I just want to know more about him."

For some reason, I feel like his life must be terrible.

  "For that to happen, you just need the right person to help you.”

I frown, looking up at him. “Who?”

I hope it won't be Marianne because that is the closest person I have ever seen him with.

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he’s about to share a secret. “There’s someone who knows Master Noah better than anyone else.”

My heartbeat picks up. “And Who is it?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “His best friend.”

I blink in surprise. Noah has a best friend?

The chef nods as if reading my thoughts. “Yes. He might have the answers you’re looking for.”

Hope flickers in my chest for the first time in days. Answers. That’s exactly what I need. If I can understand Noah, maybe… just maybe, I can figure out where I stand in his life and make this marriage work, if not for him then for myself. 

“Where can I find him?” I ask, my voice firmer than before.

The chef exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “He owns a bar and he is a playboy famously known for his looks and something else. His name is Liam, and you can hardly believe that he is best friends with Master Noah, knowing how their personalities differ. ”

I nod without hesitation. "Can I have the name of the bar?"

The chef studies me for a long moment before finally nodding. “Alright. I will check and provide you with that.”

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I might finally get closer to understanding the enigma that is Noah.

I am not so sure how I will present myself to him and also state my reason for being there, but it has to be worth it.