Chapter 204: Hannah & Noah

Hannah’s POV

A younger Noah and Zoe stared up at me from the faded photographs, joyous smiles illuminating their youthful faces. I hadn’t seen Noah smile like that in years. He had offered this memory—a joy he’d never truly shared with me—to the Moon Goddess.

For a long time, I could only stare in disbelief, my hands trembling. “Noah, what is this?” I finally whispered. “Why would you offer a picture of you and Zoe to the Moon Goddess?”

Noah’s eyes widened, and he reached for the photograph. “Hannah, that’s not mine—”

“Don’t lie to me!” I snapped, pulling the picture away. “I recognize the fabric. I found it in the mud, and I wish I’d left it there.”

“Hannah, it’s not mine,” Noah insisted, his voice rising. “I don’t know how it got there.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you offer, then?” I asked.

Noah hesitated, his ears reddening. “I… I can’t tell you.”

“Of course not. Because there was nothing else,” I scoffed, tears welling. “The offering was supposed to be precious to you. And you chose this?” I threw the photo at his chest.

After a tense silence, Noah picked it up, his face a mixture of confusion and frustration. “Hannah, you have to listen,” he said, dusting off the photograph. “This isn’t what you think.”

“Then what is it?” I demanded, crossing my arms. “Explain why a picture of you and Zoe was wrapped in the cloth of your offering. Explain why you even still have that picture.”

Noah ran a hand through his hair. His eyes flickered to the photograph. “I don’t know how it got there. That picture is old. I haven’t seen it in—”

“Save it,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

Noah stared at me, making it harder to hide my pain. The hurt was overwhelming. Even though we were divorcing, I’d put something representing our relationship in my offering. I still valued our past.

But apparently, Noah never valued our relationship. I should have expected this, yet it still stung.

“Hannah,” Noah said, stepping closer. “I didn’t put this in my bundle.”

I shook my head, backing away. Lies, I thought. “I think you should go,” I muttered.

“But—”

“Now, Noah,” I said firmly, pointing to the door. “I need to change.”

Noah hesitated, then his shoulders slumped. “Whatever. Have it your way,” he said quietly, his voice laced with bitterness. “But this isn’t over. We need to talk about this.”

I didn’t respond, watching him walk to the door. He paused, turning back. Before he could speak, I waved him away. “Get out of my sight.”