Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Gideon didn’t come home that night.
He arrived early the next morning, the scent of Wren clinging to him like a shadow. Maeve was already awake, sitting calmly at the dining table, eating breakfast. When Gideon hesitated at the door, she watched him carefully as he tried to find the right words to apologize.
“Maeve, sweetheart, I’m really sorry,” he murmured. “Something unexpected happened–I never meant to be gone that long. It wasn’t how I planned it, I promise.”
She said nothing, chewing quietly.
He sat down beside her and took her free hand in his. “Please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to miss our dinner. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. You know you mean everything to me.”
Still, she remained silent.
He quickly pulled a small boy from
Chapter 7
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pocket. “I brought you something” he said. “Look, I saw this and thought of you. I know how much you love jewelry.”
Maeve blinked at the delicate gold necklace with a crystal pendant inside.
She recognized it immediately.
It wasn’t new. She could tell right away–it was one of Wren’s old pieces. Maeve clearly remembered the post Wren had made weeks ago, showing off the jewelry she was getting rid of. And now, that same castoff was what Gideon had chosen to give her.
Maeve stared at the necklace, then slowly looked up at Gideon.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice calm. “It’s nice.”
“That’s it?” Gideon asked, confused. “You like it, right?”
“Yes” she replied, placing her spoo
own
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“That’s it?” Gideon asked, confused. “You like it, right?”
“Yes,” she replied, placing her spoon down. “It’s beautiful.”
Gideon was caught off guard. Maeve usually lit up with joy–hugging him, showering him with kisses, expressing endless gratitude. But this time, her expression barely shifted, like he’d given her something meaningless. Sure, he knew the gift was worthless–but Maeve wasn’t supposed to.
“Wait… are you mad at me?” Gideon asked.
Maeve gave a small, distant smile. “No. I’m not mad.”
Maeve was angry, but not at Gideon. Her frustration was directed inward–for being blind for so long, for letting herself be so easily misled.
“You’re really not upset?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief
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“No,” she replied calmly, rising to her feet. “You said something came up. I get it.”
“But-”
“It’s fine,” she interrupted, her voice steady. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
He searched her face, looking for any sign of emotion, but there was none. It confused
him and frustrated him.
“Can you stop being so damn dramatic?!” he snapped, his annoyance spilling out.
Maeve raised her eyebrows calmly. “Excuse me?”
He sighed heavily and stormed off.
Maeve shook her head in quiet amusement. Her phone buzzed with a message from Maxwell, and a smile spread across her lips as she typed back.
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Gideon returned to the dining room atter calming down, but when he saw her smiling at her phone, his eyes narrowed.
She hadn’t even noticed he was back.
He stood there for a moment, then walked to the table, expecting to see his breakfast set but the table was empty, save for her empty plate and cup.
He cleared his throat, hoping to draw her gaze.
Maeve kept her eyes fixed downward, refusing to meet his.
Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Uh… where’s mine?”
She glanced up, seeming surprised to see him still there. “what?”
“My breakfast,” he said, gesturing toward the empty table. “You didn’t save any for me?”
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She shrugged. “I didn’t see you, so I made my own.”
Gideon’s eyes widened. “And what about me?”
“The kitchen’s right there. Eggs are in the fridge, bread’s on the counter. Butter and jam in the drawer.” She said it casually, like it was nothing new.
Gideon stood stunned, staring at her in disbelief. He had never prepared his own breakfast here before–Maeve always did it willingly, without needing to be asked.
Now, she was pointing him toward the ingredients.
His jaw clenched. “You didn’t think I’d be hungry?”
“I didn’t see you,” she said, turning back to her phone, her smile instantly returning at another message from Maxwell.
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Gideon clenched his jaw in frustration. She was pretending, trying to get under his skin, but he refused to care.
“What game are you playing now?” he snapped, stepping closer. “Seriously, Maeve. I’m hungry. I don’t have time playing with you.”
Without looking up, she said calmly, “You should’ve eaten where you were.”
