I was one orgasm away from burning this apartment to the ground.

Not mine, obviously.

No, I was the one sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by case briefs,

caffeine and the crumbled remains of my sanity.

Whereas my older brother, Trey, and my best friend, Kate, were enjoying

themselves in our living room.

The worst part?

They weren't even subtle about it.

Moans, giggles, heavy breathing.

I swear I was going insane here.

I gritted my teeth and highlighted negligence like I was carving it into

stone.

“You guys,” I snapped, loud enough to cut through their distracting

noises. “Some people are trying to study here.”

A breathless laugh escaped Kate's lips. “Sorry.”

“I'm not,” Trey rudely added. “Study in your room, brat.”

“Why don't you go make out in yours?” I snapped.

He shrugged before returning his face to Kate's neck like I'm some kind

of background noise.

I stared down at my textbook, the lines of legal jargon not making any

sense to me as Kate and Trey rudely continued on.

I quickly slammed my textbook shut before throwing everything into my

bag.

I didn't even bother to look at them as I stormed to the door.

“Where are you going?” Kate called after me, like she didn't just

contribute to my mental breakdown.

“Somewhere sane,” I muttered before slamming the door behind me.

By the time I made it to the street, the cold slapped me, and I realized I

I should've picked up my coat on the way out.

However, I refused to go back to that apartment.

Just great.

I was now pissed AND cold.

I wrapped my arms around my torso and pushed through the crowd of

people who all seemed to be walking slower just to piss me off  even

more.

Fifteen minutes, one near-death New York cab encounter, and a coffee

Shop later; I finally made it to the steps of Columbia Law's library.

I was surprised that my ass hadn't frozen to death as yet.

The campus was quieter than I expected for a Monday night, but I

couldn't have cared less.

The crisp air continued to bite my skin like it knew exactly how over it I

was.

I angrily stomped up the stairs, already imagining the warm, peaceful

corner I'd find in the library, where I could escape from everything and

Just focus on tort law.

I quickly reached to the doors and yanked on the handle.

Locked.

I blinked before staring at the handwritten sign taped to the glass:

Closed for maintenance. Please consider using alternate space.

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the cool glass as I felt

A wave of frustration washes over me.

Of course the library is closed.

Of course it would happen today, when I was on the verge of losing my

mind and drowning in law school stress.

I had barely slept the night before, but I needed this.

I just required some quiet.

Furthermore, I just needed to pass tomorrow's exam.

Besides, I let out a quiet groan, feeling like shit.

Just when I thought I was starting to get a grip, life had to go throw me a

curveball.

“I'm going to die,” I mumbled to myself.

“No, you're not. They're opening it in twenty minutes,” a deep voice

suddenly said.

I jumped, spinning around to see the source of the voice.

He was tall, well put-together, and wearing a dark, tailored coat that

probably cost more than my rent.

His expression was cold and unreadable, and he stood with the kind of

confidence that made him seem untouchable.

I narrowed my eyes, taking him in. “What?”

He pointed his index finger beside me to a second note on the glass.

Will open at 10pm.

I blinked, staring at the note for a second longer than I should have.

“So…why didn't they just, I don't know, put that on the first one?” I

muttered, still feeling a sting of irritation.

His gaze flickered briefly to the sign, then to me. “Apparently, it's more

important to make people guess.”

“Great, just what I needed,” I said, moving further into the corner to

Avoid the coldness. “Thanks for the tip, I guess.”

He didn't respond right away.

Instead, his eyes lingered on me for a beat too long, cold and

calculating, as though evaluating me.

“You seem…frustrated,” he observed, like it was a scientific fact.

I blinked. “You think?”

“Just stating the obvious,” he said, his voice flat.

No sympathy there, no attempt at easing the tension.

Just cold, hard observation.

I shook my head, pushing down my annoyance.

“It's been a rough day,” I explained. “No, a rough week.”

“Actually a rough semester,” I concluded.

“Law school will do it for you,” he simply said.

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself as the cold air continued to

Torture me.

“What year are you?” I asked, trying not to shiver.

“Third,” he calmly said, his eyes still on the sign.

Of course he was a 3L.

I nodded, pretending his answer didn't rattle me. “Of course you are.”

His eyes finally flickered to me. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're not a first year who's probably going to fail their exam

tomorrow,” I said, remembering the lack of progress I made at the

apartment.

“You'll do great,” he assumed. “You seem like a good student.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

Before I could say anything else, he shrugged off his coat.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he held it out.

“You're cold.”

“I'm fine.”

“You're shivering.”

I was. Damn it.

“I'm fine,” I repeated.

He didn't argue.

Instead, he stepped forward and wrapped it gently around my

shoulders.

It was heavy and warm and smelled like him.

Clean, expensive, and maddeningly composed.

“I said I was fine,” I muttered, avoiding eye contact as he stared into my

soul.

“You're bad at lying,” he acknowledged. “You're going to want to fix that

if you want to be a believable lawyer.”

I scoffed, still looking away. “I don't need you saving me.”

“I wasn't trying to,” he calmly answered.

I shook my head, arms still wrapped tightly around myself. “Then why-”

“Because you were clearly shivering,” he interrupted. “And I gave you

my coat. So, you can stop being rude now and say thank you.”

I hesitated.

The words burned my tongue, but I would rather not give him the

satisfaction.

I finally turned to face him, forcing myself to meet his eyes.

They were grey.

Captivating.

“Thank you,” I muttered, as I quickly stopped staring at him like a mad

woman.

His gaze suddenly softened for a brief moment before he took a step

closer.

He then adjusted the coat around my shoulders, pulling it tighter like he

had every right.

His hands brushed my arms as he tightened the fabric, and I couldn't

help but feel a strange warmth, more from his unexpected attention

than the coat itself.

“You're still cold\,” he said\, *almost* as if he were concerned…almost.

I didn't let the warmth of his words settle.

My arms stayed folded, his coat draped over me, but it didn't stop me

from feeling that annoying knot in my stomach.

I slowly looked up again, forcing myself to meet his gaze once more.

His eyes were so intriguing.

I've never seen someone with naturally grey eyes; that's if his were

natural.

I couldn't look away.

The longer I stared, the more I felt that knot.

Before I could say anything, the soft jingle of the keys broke the

moment.

A staff member approached the door, yawning as she dug through

her ring of keys. “Thank you for your patience. The library's open now.”

He moved first, stepping toward the door, pretending as if he hadn't

He wrapped me in his coat and read my mood like a book.

“Wait,” I said, and it came out softer than I expected.

He paused, looking back over his shoulder, with that unreadable expression

returning.

“What's your name?” I asked, unsure why my voice sounded more

vulnerable than I liked.

His gaze lingered on mine for a while. “Nathaniel.”

I slowly nodded.

Nathaniel…got it.

“I'm Naomi.”

His lips curved slightly. “I know.”

I blinked, feeling confused. “How?”

He opened the door, holding it without answering at first.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he replied. “I'm your TA.”

And with that, he stepped inside.

Leaving me standing in the cold, wrapped in his coat, questioning how

What the hell? I'd never noticed him before.

Naomi's POV

I sat at the kitchen island, eating alone.

Toast.

Cold. Half-burnt. No butter.

Nate was in the dining room.

He'd made his own breakfast.

He always makes his own.

Two eggs, black coffee, nothing more.

We didn't ask, we didn't offer, and we certainly didn't talk.

I glanced at him briefly.

He was watching last night's football game while going over a case.

I think.

I don't know. Furthermore, I didn't ask.

Besides, I sighed before looking back at my toast.

There was a time I used to fill the space between us with questions.

How did you sleep, honey?

What are we eating for breakfast?

Where's my tenth good morning kiss?

Now, we just exist like this.

Two separate mornings. Two separate lives.

We can't stand each other.

His phone was ringing, and he quickly picked it up before making his way to

the kitchen with the dishes.

As he walked past me, I remembered nothing had changed with him.

He's still the same Nate I met at the library six years ago.

The same focused, unreadable expression.

The same fancy suits.

The same way he made the space around him feel tight without even

trying.

I glanced at his wedding ring, the simple band gleaming faintly as he

moved past me.

At least he did wear it.

I stuffed the remaining toast in my mouth and quietly chewed.

We tried.

We went through a lot.

No one would wrong us for divorcing.

In fact, I think everyone would be thrilled.

Finally, they won't have to pretend like they don't know about our marriage

has gone to shit.

Mutual friends won't have to feel bad that they stopped inviting us to

places.

But I couldn't help feeling like it would be a relief for me too.

And that made me sick to think about.

He was supposed to be the love of my life.

He was supposed to be the person I'd grow old with and share

everything with…and now I can't even see us making it past next week.

I clenched my jaw as I stood up and brought my plate beside him.

He was washing the dishes, one hand scrubbing a plate, the other hand

holding his phone to his ear as he talked to his client.

I stood there for a second, just watching him.

A person who used to be my everything.

Now he's just my husband who hates me.

All I do is remind him of our loss.

He suddenly glanced at me, and my pulse skyrocketed.

A familiar mix of anger and helplessness churned in my stomach.

He quickly finished his call before raising his eyebrow. “Do you need

something?”

I took a deep breath. “I'm tired of this.”

He raised his eyebrow as he began to wipe his hands. “Tired of what?”

“Tired of this,” I snapped. “Tired of us.”

He sighed before turning around and beginning to walk away.

“I want a divorce, Nate,” I finally said it.

After months of us waiting to see who would ask first, I finally gave in.

He quickly packed up his files from the dining room table and stuffed

them in his briefcase.

“Nate,” I groaned. “Let's not make this any harder than it should be.”

He paused for a second before glancing at me.

“We're not getting a divorce, and that's final,” he said. “I would rather not hear anything about this again.”

I blinked, stunned that he actually thought I would listen to him.

Suddenly, a humorless laugh escaped me.

“You would rather not hear it?” I asked. “Since when do you want to decide

What do we talk about? What do I feel?”

“Our marriage is shit, and we both know that!” I angrily shouted.

“Oh yeah?” He glared at me. “And whose fault is that, huh?”

“Did I say anything when you graduated law school and went to Kane &

Whitman?” He argued.

I scoffed, feeling even more shocked. “You can't seriously be bringing up

something I did years ago!?”

“Goodbye, Naomi,” he said as he began walking to the door. “I'm

already late for court.”

Something immediately snapped in me because my jaw clenched and

My hands quickly found their way to the drawer and picked up the

nearest object.

Before I knew it, I was throwing it across the kitchen, and it hit the

cabinet before the sound of glass breaking filled the air.

I glanced at him to see all the blood slowly being drained from his face.

I slowly turned to see the frame broken.

The little footprints were still pressed perfectly between them.

I immediately crouched down, reaching for the pieces like I could

somehow fix it.

“Of course,” he bitterly muttered. “You break the one thing that actually

mattered.”

My head whipped up as my eyes turned glassy. “Don't you dare.”

He quickly kneeled, gathering the pieces in his hands like he could.

Put them back together.

“And this is precisely what I mean,” he said under his breath, sharp and

exhausted. “You don't care. You just react.”

My jaw clenched as I watched him. “Nate.”

He didn't even look at me.

“Nate,” I repeated.

Only when he brushed his thumb across a crack and saw the tiny smear

of blood did he stop moving.

I reached for his hand, but he immediately snapped at me.

“Just go!” He angrily shouted, his eyes still avoiding me.

I stared at him for a few more seconds before quickly wiping my tears

and rushing out.

…

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out onto the 38th floor, my

heels echoing against the marble.

I ignored everyone's pitiful gazes as I walked through the office.

I've been getting them ever since I came back, so I've grown oddly used to it.

However, my mind kept going back to this morning's events.

I didn't mean to.

Of course, I didn't.

That was the last memory I had of my baby girl.

Why would I purposefully ruin it?

When I reached my office, I sank into my chair and forced myself to

Keep it together.

The way Nate's voice cracked kept replaying in my mind, and I felt

even worse.

He wasn't supposed to sound like that.

He never cracked.

Not even when he found out we lost her.

There was a sudden knock on my door before my boss, Russell Kane

appeared. “Hey, Naomi, how are you holding up?”

I would rather not answer, but I did nonetheless. “Good.”

He nodded his head before closing the door behind him. “I wanted to speak to

you before the announcement today.”

I sat up straighter.

My fingers tensed against the edges of my desk.

He exhaled slowly. “The partners voted last night. It was so close.”

I stayed quiet as I watched him, already knowing the direction of this

conversation.

“I want you to know that this isn't a reflection of your talent-”

“Just tell me who got it,” I stopped him.

He hesitated for a while before answering. “Kate.”

I looked away, my jaw automatically tightening.

“The partners felt she had more…availability, especially this quarter.”

“More availability?” I snapped. “Is it because she didn't bury her

newborn and only took two weeks to grieve?”

He sighed. “Carter, don't think like that.”

“It's fine,” I said bitterly. “I know how it goes.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “There's always next time. It's not like we're

saying no forever.”

My grip tightened around the edge of my desk as all the memories of me

Working my ass off for this reappeared.

All those sleepless nights and overworking myself when I was pregnant.

All those fights I got into with Nate for not resting were all for nothing.

I lost her for nothing.

“And also making partner doesn't define-”

“I got it,” I snapped again as I held back my tears.

“I'm sorry, Carter,” he quickly said before rushing out.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, hoping that this'll all be over

soon.

…

Nate's POV

I angrily packed up my files as I prepared to leave the courtroom.

“God bless you,” Mrs. White said, her voice trembling as she reached to hold

my hand. “You saved everything. My house, my pension, my grandchildren's

future.”

I forced a smile, the kind that I'd perfected over the court years.

“I'm glad I could get you justice,” I said before returning to tucking my papers

into my briefcase.

“I don't know how I could ever repay you, young man,” she said. “I don't

think I could've afforded this.”

“You don't need to,” I told her. “That's why I do legal aid in my spare time.”

“That still doesn't make me feel any less guilty,” she said. “You should bring

your wife over so I can cook you two a nice meal. I make a lovely casserole.”

My jaw clenched when I remembered all the shit Naomi's done.

“It's fine. Really.” I told her. “My wife and I are very busy, so that won't be

possible.”

“Your parents raised you so well,” she smiled. “I can see why people have

trusted your father to be the mayor of Newark all these years.”

I forced a nod, swallowing the bitter taste rising in my throat.

I checked my watch. “As much as I'd hate to leave you, I do have another case

in ten minutes.”

She nodded with a smile before I rushed out.

I exhaled sharply as I walked to the courtroom, ready to win my final case for

the day.

Then I saw her.

Naomi.

She was standing outside the adjacent courtroom going through a file.

Her hair was pulled back, and her bag was slung over one shoulder.

Part of me wanted to turn around.

Pretend I forgot something.

But I couldn't.

She's still my wife.

I still love her.

Even though I can't stand her…if that makes sense?

And even after everything, she's still taking my breath away, even though I

make it impossible for her to know.

When I first asked her out in law school, she thought I was joking even

though she was the one who like me first.

I took a deep breath before making my way over to her, like a normal

husband would.

She slowly looked up before we fell into an awkward silence.

I was still mad at her.

She broke Eden's frame.

She broke the one memory we got to cherish with Eden.

“Hey,” I finally decided to break the silence as I looked around.

She looked back down at her file. “Hey.”

My eyes landed on Parker watching us. The biggest gossiper in the

courthouse.

I'll assume that he's responsible for letting the whole world know that

Naomi and I aren't okay.

“Parker's watching us,” I simply said, and she paused for a second before

glancing at him.

“Can't that guy just give us a break?” I asked frustratedly.

“I wish,” I said, looking at my watch. “My case is about to start, so I'll see

you at home, yeah?”

She silently nodded as she watched me.

I watched her too as I tried to decide if I should hug my wife to giver Parker

something to munch on.

However, I didn't.

We haven't touched each other in months.

We'd barely even talked.

Most of our conversations would be much shorter than today's.

I turned away and began to walk to the courtroom.

“Carter,” Parker said as he joined me.

“Ready for me to kick your ass in court?” I asked as we entered the

courtroom.

“Not if I get to you first,” he said, and I scoffed from his boldness.

“I saw you talking to the Mrs.,” he continued. “How's she holding up?”

I raised my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“About her not getting partner,” he explained. “Kate Quinn got it. Didn't she

tell you?”

I clenched my jaw, but quickly relaxed it before he noticed. “Of course she

did. She's handing things pretty well.”

She didn't say a damn thing.

I headed to my side of the room where I began preparing.

…

The church basement smelt like burnt coffee and old folding chairs.

The guy in the center was talking about slipping up last week.

Something about a family birthday and a bottle of Jameson calling his name.

I don't know the exact details.

I wasn't listening.

My eyes were fixed on the floor, but my mind was focused on Eden.

I'd only known that baby for ten minutes, yet she lived constantly on my

mind for the past 10 months.

Why the hell couldn't she stay alive?

Why her?

Why has no man ever talked about the unimaginable pain he feels when he's

begging the doctor to just allow him to spend a little more time with his

daughter?

Naomi didn't even cry.

She didn't even care.

Our baby was died and all she could think about is missing a court case.

A damn court case.

“Nathaniel?” A voice broke me out of my thoughts.

I glanced up to see everyone looking at me.

Julian, my spondee, motioned for me to join him in the center.

“Last month,” he started. “I had a pretty bad relapse, and this guy, even with

all his shit going on, helped me every step of the way.”

I sighed. “Julian, what is this?”

“Today makes six years since you've been sober, so we wanted to celebrate

it,” he smiled.

“Guys, please don't do this,” I sighed, wishing they weren't making this such

a big deal.

“Too late,” Tony said as he walked in with a huge cake.

More members entered behind him with some other food items before music

started to play in the background.

“Thank you guys,” I told them, letting my guard down for just a second.

“Really.”

…

I yawned as I closed the front door.

I glanced through the glass wall of our home office to see her working.

Furthermore, I thought about walking in, about telling her that the AA group threw

me a

surprise party, about how I was six years sober.

But I didn't move.

I just stood there watching this stranger.

She's not that L1 I met on a random Monday at the library anymore.

She's not the woman who used to fall asleep on my chest.

Furthermore, she suddenly glanced up and immediately locked eyes with mine.

I quickly looked down and cleared my throat as I took off my jacket and

shoes.

When I was done, she had already returned her attention to her work.

I loosened my tie and began to make my way upstairs to Eden's room, well

my room now.

I paused at the door, hand on the knob.

I took breath before opening the door to the reveal the soft, pale blush which

was barely pink in the evening light.

Along the baseboards and curling toward the corners were vines and flowers

Naomi had painted by hand.

She'd spent hours on it.

Said she wanted Eden to feel like she's sleeping in a garden.

Her white crib, with her name above it, stood untouched in corner and the

rocking chair too.

I took another deep breath before making my way over to it and allowed the

silence to greet me like an old friend.

…