The Divorce That Brought Us Back novel Chapter 27

Her tears fell in absolute silence.

The moment the familiar prickling hit her nose, her only instinct was to run.

But there was nowhere to go.

Before she even took a full step, Maloney hauled her right back.

She buried her face in her hands, her voice breaking on a choked sob. "I don't want to talk anymore."

"Alright, we won't talk." Maloney kept one arm securely wrapped around her, while his free hand grabbed a fistful of tissues and pressed them into her palm.

It wasn't that he didn't want to wipe her tears for her.

It was that when Nora cried, she absolutely refused to let anyone see her face.

It was the same when she cried in bed.

She would always desperately grab a pillow to hide behind.

If he tried to take it away, she would get furious, try to escape, and end up sobbing even harder.

She looked incredibly sweet and compliant, but she actually had a myriad of stubborn little quirks.

For instance, she always slept on her right side. But once she fell asleep, she needed something blocking the space in front of her. If she opened her eyes in the morning to an empty, open room, it triggered massive anxiety.

Because of this, she always slept on the right side of the bed, while Maloney took the left, naturally shielding her view. If he ever had to get up before her, it was his sworn duty to prop a pillow in front of her face.

On the very first night she moved into his house after they got married, she had explicitly laid out this rule.

He had carved it into his memory.

One morning, a massive crisis erupted at the company. Maloney jumped out of bed to take an emergency call in the hallway. In his rush, he forgot the pillow. Nora woke up at that exact moment. By the time he walked back in, she was sitting rigidly against the headboard, clutching a pillow to her chest, staring blankly into space.

Her lips were in a tight pout, her eyes were bloodshot, and she glared at him the second he walked through the door.

He hadn't realized what he'd done at first. He asked what was wrong, but she refused to answer, radiating pure, stubborn silence. He had to hold her and coax her for a solid ten minutes before she finally muttered, "You forgot the pillow."

Her inner world was delicate and hypersensitive. She was profoundly introverted, deeply insecure, and possessed a quiet, unyielding stubbornness. She was terrible at voicing her feelings, preferring to bury her misery deep inside.

She was terrified that speaking up would make her seem petty or burdensome. Her default response was to suffer in silence and wait for someone to care enough to ask.

Her traumatic upbringing had forged this personality.

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