“Penpal program?” Noah asked, taking the seat opposite me. “That sounds interesting. Tell me more.”

I explained the concept to him, surprised by his genuine interest. When I finished, he was nodding, thinking deeply.

“That’s a great idea, Hannah,” he said. “I’m glad you have a new project to focus on. Let me know if you need any help with it.”

His compliment and offer of help, both so freely given, caught me off guard. But mentioning the program stirred up memories of our own letter-writing days, and a wave of sadness washed over me.

“Noah,” I began hesitantly, “do you really not remember the letters we used to write to each other?”

His brow furrowed. “Letters?”

I nodded. “When we were teenagers. We wrote to each other for two years.” Noah’s expression clouded, and I felt my heart sink. “Hannah, I… I went through some very tough times as a teen. A lot of that period is just a blur to me now. I’m sorry.” I wanted to yell, to cry, to call him a liar. But as I looked at him, I saw a deep sadness in his eyes, one that I couldn’t ignore. It was a reminder of the boy I used to know, the one who had poured his heart out to me in those letters that he had forgotten. I remembered how he had written about his difficult home life, the pressure he felt to be the perfect Alpha heir. It was true; those years were… not good for him.

Suddenly, it was harder to be angry with him. The Noah sitting across from me now seemed more like that vulnerable boy than the cold, distant man I had married. Maybe I had been too harsh about his difficulty remembering our past.

“Maybe,” I said softly, “when we get home, I’ll show you the letters I saved.”

Noah’s eyes widened in surprise. “You… you’re coming home with me?”

I blinked, realizing what I had just said. “I… I guess I didn’t even think about it when I said that just now. But maybe that’s a sign that I should go with you.”

“Really?”

I nodded slowly. “Just for the duration of the pregnancy,” I clarified. “And then, perhaps we can amicably divorce and do joint custody with our child. Just like you said.”

Relief washed over Noah’s face. “That’s all I want for our child, Hannah. An amicable situation. I understand that our marriage is over, but I want the best for our kid.”

He stood up and, before I could react, pulled me into a hug. My eyes widened in surprise, and I found myself too stiff to return the embrace. But as I stood there, enveloped in his arms, the familiar scent of his cologne washed over me. It was a scent I had known for years—he always wore the same cologne—and I should have been so used to it by now that I couldn’t even smell it anymore. But despite everything, I did, and it still made my knees weak.

After a moment, Noah pulled back, and there was the faintest ghost of a smile on his face. “Thank you, Hannah. This means a lot to me.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

Noah turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I’ll let you get back to your research. But remember, if you need any help, just ask.”

As he left, I sank back into the armchair, my mind reeling. I picked up the book I had been reading, but found myself unable to focus on the words. Instead, my thoughts kept drifting back to Noah. To the warmth of his embrace, the sincerity in his eyes when he spoke about our child, and most of all… to that achingly familiar scent that still lingered in the air around me.