Chapter 7
Oliver would not sleep alone for weeks.
Nora stayed.
I stayed too when I could.
The first few nights, he woke whenever the hallway clicked.
“Door?”
“Open.”
I showed him.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Children repeat questions until the body believes the answer.
One night he pointed at Nora.
“Nora stay.”
She looked at me.
I nodded.
Then Oliver pointed at me.
“Daddy stay.”
I stayed.
No meeting mattered more.
At two in the morning, Nora whispered:
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes.”
I looked at my son.
“I do.”
There was another truth between us.
Oliver reached for Nora before me during the engagement dinner.
That hurt.
Not because she had taken my place.
Because I had been gone enough for someone else to become his emergency safety.
I did not resent her.
I respected what it revealed.
“You protected him.”
Nora looked uncomfortable.
“I should have told you sooner.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
No false comfort.
Then:
“But you protected him when you were afraid too.”
Her eyes filled.
Both truths.
She had failed to speak.
She had also entered that locked room every night knowing Camille might discover her.
I asked:
“Why?”
Nora looked at Oliver.
“Because he was alone.”
Simple.
No grand loyalty oath.
No family politics.
A child was alone.
So she went in.
That answer mattered more than blood.
More than titles.
More than who eventually married whom.
I began seeing Nora differently that night.
Not romantically.
May you like
Not yet.
As someone whose instincts around my child were cleaner than most people born into Whitmore.
