Lexi returned home late on Sunday night. The kind of late that made the city feel slower, quieter, like New York itself was finally exhaling. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she crept inside the apartment, dropping her overnight bag gently beside the entryway. It was past midnight, and she wasn't expecting anyone to be awake.
But then she heard it—the sounds of an action movie coming from the living room. Gunfire, yelling, explosions. She peeked around the corner and froze.
Noah was asleep on the couch, sprawled across the cushions like he'd passed out halfway through the movie. One arm draped over his stomach, the other dangling off the edge. The flickering light from the TV cast gentle shadows over his features. His mouth was slightly open. Peaceful. Unaware.
She stared at him for a moment, arms folded.
He looked different like this. Softer. Quieter. Less of the arrogant, smooth-talking enemy she'd married. More like… a man. A tired one.
The movie's audio blared as a helicopter exploded. Noah didn't even flinch.
Lexi walked in quietly, grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and turned off the TV. The silence was instant. She glanced at the armchair, spotted the throw blanket, and pulled it free.
She hovered for a moment, then gently draped it over Noah's body, adjusting it so it wouldn't fall off his shoulder. She lingered.
"Sometimes I wish it was real," she whispered under her breath.
Then she turned away before she could regret saying it—even to herself—and walked down the hall to her room.
⸻
Noah stirred a few hours later, groggy and blinking up at the now-dark screen. It took him a second to register the blanket.
He frowned at it, half-asleep.
Lexi. She must've done it.
He smiled faintly, rubbing a hand over his face.
He'd thought she hated him. That she'd been doing everything she could to stay away. But she'd covered him up. She hadn't just left him there. That had to mean something… didn't it?
He pulled the blanket tighter around himself for one long second, then stood and made his way quietly to his room.
⸻
Morning came earlier than Lexi wanted. She was dressed in sleek leggings, a sports bra, and her favorite cropped hoodie, ready for a jog. Or more accurately—ready to be anywhere but inside the apartment with Noah.
When she entered the kitchen, Noah was already there, hair damp from a shower, a towel slung casually over his shoulder. He wore a loose tank top and gym shorts, a smoothie in the blender and eggs sizzling in the pan.
"Morning," he said, not looking up.
Lexi hesitated. "I'm going for a jog. I'll eat later."
"I'll come with," Noah offered, too quickly.
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to."
"I want to."
Lexi sighed but didn't argue. She grabbed her earbuds and jogged in place by the door until he was ready.
⸻
The park air was cool and crisp. They jogged side-by-side in a tense silence for the first five minutes. The sound of Lexi's shoes hitting the pavement felt louder than it should. Noah finally broke the quiet.
"So… we're back to ignoring each other?"
Lexi didn't look at him. "I'm not ignoring you. We're jogging."
"Right. Jogging. In complete silence. Totally normal married couple behavior."
"We're not a normal married couple."
That shut him up for a moment. They jogged in silence again, breathing heavy, bodies tense.
"I saw the video," he said finally. "You and Jake."
Lexi's face twisted. "Not your business."
"You're my wife."
"Fake wife."
"You know what I mean."
They turned a corner into a shaded path. Lexi didn't reply.
"I'm not trying to fight," he added.
"Then stop talking," she snapped.
And then she tripped.
Her foot caught on a raised bit of concrete, and she stumbled forward. She reached out—instinct, panic—and grabbed onto Noah's arm.
He wasn't ready. She yanked him off balance, and they both went down in a heap on the grass.
Lexi landed on her back. Noah landed on top of her.
There was a long pause. Neither of them moved.
Noah's hands were braced on either side of her. Their faces were inches apart. The world slowed.
Her hands gripped his arms, breath catching in her throat.
He didn't move.
Neither did she.
His gaze flickered to her mouth.
She didn't stop him.
He leaned in. Slowly. Tentatively.
Her lips parted.
But then—her mind replayed that awful text. The image of Molly's perfect lipstick. The ache in her chest when she saw the footage.
Lexi shoved him away.
Noah rolled onto his back, stunned. "Lexi—"
She was already up.
She looked like she might say something—but didn't. She turned and jogged away, faster than before.
Noah stayed on the ground for a moment, staring at the sky.
"Awesome," he muttered. "That went well."
⸻
Lexi returned to the apartment thirty minutes later, still sweaty, cheeks flushed from more than just the jog. She peeled off her hoodie and headed to the kitchen for water—and froze.
Noah was cooking shirtless.
Only wearing gym shorts.
His back muscles flexed as he reached for spices. His hair was damp again, freshly washed. A towel hung around his neck.
He didn't see her at first.
She stood in the doorway, watching him.
And then he said without turning, "See something you like?"
Lexi nearly choked. "Excuse me?"
He turned and smirked at her. "You've been standing there a while."
She crossed her arms. "I was just thinking… that smoothie looks pretty appetizing."
He grinned, knowing exactly what she wasn't saying.
"Smoothie's yours," he said, nodding toward the glass.
She walked over and took it. "Thanks."
Then she noticed the angry red mark on his shoulder blade—just beneath the towel.
She frowned. "You're bleeding."
"What?"
"Your shoulder. From the fall. It's red. Looks like it might've cut."
He craned his neck, trying to see it.
Without thinking, Lexi stepped closer, gently pushing the towel off to inspect it. She ran her finger around the wound, avoiding the center.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Noah held still, every nerve in his body hyper-aware of her touch.
"It's nothing," he said, but his voice cracked slightly.
She stepped back and disappeared.
He blinked.
Then she returned with the first aid kit.
"Sit," she said.
He did.
She stood behind him and cleaned the scrape in silence.
Noah stared straight ahead. Her fingers were delicate. Her breath was steady. But he could feel the tension crackling between them.
When she pressed the bandage on, she finally spoke again.
"All done. I think you'll live."
She didn't wait for a response. She packed the kit back up and left the kitchen.
Noah watched her go.
And for the first time in days, he smiled—small but real.
Because whatever this was… it wasn't over. Not yet.