No Strings Attached

Chapter Thirty Six

The days bled together, each one heavier than the last. Over the next couple of weeks, Norma felt like she was walking a tightrope, carefully navigating George's moods. His patience with her was thinning, his frustration bubbling closer to the surface with every passing day.
In public, George still wore his mask well. He smiled, held her hand, pulled out her chair at restaurants. He could charm anyone with a laugh or a well-placed compliment, and for a fleeting moment, even she could almost believe the image he presented.
But behind closed doors, the cracks were impossible to ignore. When it was good, it was good. George could still be kind when he wanted to be, still shower her with sweet words and gestures that almost felt genuine. But the second she misstepped, said the wrong thing, gave him too little attention, or hesitated when he reached for her, the kindness would vanish and be replaced by something colder, sharper.
"Do you even care about us?" he snapped one night, his voice low but cutting. They had just arrived back to George's house after a dinner with Christine and her husband, and though conversation flowed well, Norma couldn't find it in herself to give anyone her full attention. And apparently, George had noticed.
Norma flinched at the edge in his tone, her stomach twisting into knots. "Of course I do," she replied quietly, trying to diffuse the tension.
He stared at her for a moment, his jaw tightening. Then his hand shot out, gripping her wrist. The pressure wasn't enough to leave a mark, but it stung all the same. She held her breath, her heart pounding as she forced herself to meet his eyes.
"Then start showing it," he said, his grip lingering for a beat too long before he let her go.
She nodded, her throat dry, and George turned away as if nothing had happened. But the sting of his touch lingered, a reminder of how quickly things could shift with him.
The winter air was crisp as Norma and Emma walked slowly along the winding path around the hospital grounds. The bare branches of the trees stretched up against a pale sky, and the quiet around them felt peaceful, almost soothing. Norma tucked her hands into her coat pockets, glancing sideways at Emma, who seemed brighter than the last time they'd spoken.
"How have you been?" Norma asked, her voice soft. "How's everything going with your recovery?"
Emma smiled, her cheeks pink from the cold. "Better than expected. The doctors are really happy with my progress, and they're saying I should be good to go sometime next week," she said with a touch of pride.
"It's strange, not having my third leg with me," she adds jokingly with a smile, referring to her oxygen tank.
Norma's lips curved into a warm smile. "That's great, Emma. I'm so happy for you."
Emma looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before her smile turned slightly shy. "It helps having Dylan around," she admitted, glancing down at her hands.
Norma's brow lifted with curiosity. "Oh?" she teased gently. "And how are things going with him?"
Emma's smile widened, her eyes lighting up. "Better than expected," she repeated, her voice almost a whisper. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's...really great, Norma. He's been here for me through everything and, I don't know, I just feel...safe."
Norma's heart warmed at the sight of Emma's happiness. "You deserve that," she said sincerely. "Dylan's lucky to have you."
Emma's smile lingered as they walked, but then her gaze shifted to Norma, her expression softening with concern. "And you? How are things with George?"
Norma's step faltered, and for a brief moment, her mask slipped. Her face fell, her shoulders tightening before she quickly forced a smile. "It's fine. Everything's fine," she said lightly, too lightly.
Emma stopped walking, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied Norma. "You know you can tell me things, Norma," she said gently but firmly. "I know you think I can't handle it, but I can. I care about you and what you're going through."
Norma hesitated, the practiced smile wavering on her lips. Finally, she let out a long sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing as her defenses crumbled. Her breath hitched as she looked at Emma, her voice trembling when she spoke.
"I miss Alex," she admitted softly, the words almost getting caught in her throat as she finally said them aloud. "More than I thought I would."
Emma reached out and grabbed her hand, her touch warm and grounding. She didn't push, just held on, waiting patiently as Norma gathered herself.
Norma swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on a point in the distance. "I thought George could fill the void Alex left behind," she continued after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I was wrong."
Emma's grip on her hand tightened, a silent show of support. "What do you mean? Did something happen?"
Norma shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her. "George was so charming at first. So easy to be around. I thought...maybe I could learn to be content with him. Maybe I could convince myself that he was enough." She paused, her voice breaking. "But he's not. He's nothing like Alex. And the more I try, the worse it gets."
Emma's brows furrowed, her expression turning protective. "Norma...is everything okay with him? Is he treating you right?"
Norma hesitated, guilt and fear warring inside her. She didn't want to unload everything onto Emma, not after everything she'd been through, but the truth was a heavy weight she couldn't keep carrying alone.
"He's...I don't know," she said finally, her voice shaking as the words spill out of her mouth before she can stop them. "There's just something that feels...off. Wrong. He gets angry so fast, Emma. And when he does, it's like I don't even recognize him."
Emma's brows furrow with concern. "He doesn't...he doesn't hit you, right?"
"No, no," Norma says quickly before biting her lip nervously as she thought about it more. "He...he grabs me sometimes. Not enough to bruise me or anything but...enough to make his point." She looked down, ashamed. "I...It's fine, it's nothing. I just...I miss Alex."
Emma's face hardened, her grip on Norma's hand unrelenting. "Norma, you don't deserve that. You know that, right?"
Norma nodded weakly, but tears brimmed in her eyes. "I just thought I could fix everything, you know? That if I tried hard enough, I could make it work and maybe we could both find happiness. But I can't stop thinking about Alex. About how safe he made me feel, how much he loved me. I've never had that before, not like that."
Her voice cracked as she continued. "And the way he looks at me now, the coldness in his eyes...I don't know how much longer I can take it."
Emma's gaze softened, and she gave Norma's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Norma, I know you're doing this because you think it's what's best. That you're trying to protect him. But...do you really think Alex would want this for you? For either of you?"
Norma blinked, her tears threatening to spill over as Emma's words hit her.
"You can't force yourself to try to be happy with someone else when your heart already belongs to Alex," Emma continued gently. "And if being with George is hurting you like this...is it worth it?"
Norma's lips parted, but no words came out. Emma held her gaze, her expression full of patience and quiet determination.
"I'm not saying I have the answers or what you're doing is wrong," Emma said softly. "But I care about you, Norma. And I don't think Alex would want you to sacrifice yourself like this. Not for him. Not for anyone."
For a moment, all Norma could do was stare at Emma, her chest tight with emotion. She didn't know what to say, but Emma's words lingered, stirring something deep within her, something she wasn't ready to face, but couldn't ignore either.
That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her mind churned with doubt and regret. She thought back to the beginning, how she'd convinced herself that George might be different, that he could give her a fresh start. But after her talk with Emma, she saw the truth she'd been trying to ignore.
George wasn't who she thought he was. He wasn't kind, not really. He was just better at hiding the side of him that hurt her, the side that reminded her of Sam, her father, and every other man who had used love as a weapon.
She pulled her knees to her chest as she stared at the shadows on the wall, her thoughts spiraling too fast for her to comprehend.
They shifted with the faint glow of the streetlight outside, stretching and curling across the ceiling in quiet patterns. At first, the shadows were just shapes, abstract and meaningless. But slowly, they began to take form. She blinked, and for a fleeting moment, the shadows became him. The broad line of his shoulders, the curve of his jaw, the way he used to stand with his hands tucked casually in his pockets, like nothing in the world could faze him.
It was ridiculous, she knew. A trick of her tired mind. But somehow, it soothed her. The thought of Alex, even in shadow, wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She let herself imagine he was there, standing in the corner of the room, watching over her like he always used to.
The ache in her chest didn't vanish, but it dulled, just enough for her to exhale a shaky breath and let her head fall back against the pillow.
As her eyes fluttered shut, the shadows blurred, but the image of Alex lingered. He stayed with her, keeping the nightmares at bay, calming her just enough to let sleep pull her under.