Chapter 2
Outside, the fresh evening air was a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of my parents' apartment. Noah kept his arm around me, guiding me to the car. Once we were safely inside, he let out a deep sigh, the tension finally slipping from his shoulders.
"Are you alright?" he asked again, his voice now free of the harshness it held earlier. Concern lined his features as he studied my every microexpression.
After a moment, I nodded again, albeit weakly. He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was tender, an uncommon display of affection.
"Let's head home." He started the car, the engine purring to life beneath us. The ride was silent aside from the hum of the night. He didn't press me to speak, knowing I'd talk when I was ready. However, that didn't stop the occasional worried glances he shot my way, leaving a quiet suspense lingering in the air.
I kept my grip on his hand, my thumb tracing gentle circles on his skin. I could sense the sincerity in his words, an offering of safety and security. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone soft yet resolute:
"You can cry if you need to. Or scream, or yell, or anything else. I won't judge you."
He pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning off the engine. The moonlight bathed the interior in a soft, silver glow as he turned fully toward me, cupping my face gently with both hands.
"Look at me. You're not weak. You're not useless. And you are not what he says you are."
He pressed his forehead lightly against mine, his voice barely above a whisper now—raw, sincere.
"You're mine. And I protect what's mine."
I could see the fierce protectiveness in his eyes, the determination etched into every muscle of his body. His hands moved from my face to my shoulders, holding me firmly but tenderly.
"No one can ever make you feel that way again, not under my watch."
He caressed my cheek with the back of his knuckles, his voice dropping even lower.
"You don't ever have to be scared when I'm around. I swear it. You're safe with me."
Words alone weren't enough. In one swift motion, he pulled me onto his lap, cradling me against his chest. His arms encircled me, holding me tight, secure, protective.
"Just hold onto me. Let it out if you need to." He murmured, his chin resting gently on my head. The steady beat of his heart thumped against my ear, grounding me.
The car interior was quiet, the silence broken only by our breathing. He ran his fingers gently through my hair, his other hand rubbing comforting circles on my lower back. He kept me close, shielding me from the world outside—from all the harsh words and hurtful assumptions.
"We'll stay here as long as you need," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to the wounds my father's words had left.
"You're safe," he repeated, a steady assurance, a promise. And the certainty with which he said it left no room for doubt.