Chapter 3: The Heart of the Matter
Noah stood at the grand gates of Lilian's mansion, his pulse quickening. The once-familiar sight of her luxurious estate only fueled the storm of emotions churning inside him. Five years ago, this had been his home—his life, the world he had once shared with her. Now, it felt like a distant memory, a fragment of the past he couldn't quite grasp.
He knocked on the door with purpose, his knuckles rapping sharply against the ornate wood. It swung open almost immediately, and there she was—Lilian. Time had done little to change her, except for the coldness that now lingered in her eyes.
"Noah…" She seemed surprised but quickly masked it with a calm facade. "What are you doing here?"
He straightened his back, meeting her gaze with quiet determination. "I came to talk," he said, his voice firm yet steady. "About my daughters. About my life."
Her expression shifted from surprise to something sharper, defensive. "You have no rights to them," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "You were in a coma for five years. I've moved on. I suggest you do the same."
"I'm not here to fight you," Noah replied, keeping his tone even. "I'm here because I woke up, and I found out I have three daughters. I'm here because I want to be their father. I'm not asking for revenge. I'm asking to be involved in their lives."
Lilian's eyes narrowed, a thin smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Oh, you think it's that easy? Do you really believe you can just waltz back into their lives after five years of absence?"
"I'm not asking for an easy road," Noah replied, his gaze unwavering. "But I'm not going anywhere. I intend to stay."
Her voice lowered, becoming a dangerous whisper. "You try to interfere with my life again, and I'll make sure you regret it. I have the money, the power, and the legal team to make your life miserable."
Noah didn't flinch. "Do what you need to do, Lilian. But I'm staying for my daughters. You can't stop that."
The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and heavy, as if the weight of the past five years had finally come crashing down. But Noah stood firm, refusing to let her manipulative threats shake him.
Later that day, Noah returned to the house where his daughters lived. It felt strange to be back, like stepping into a world that was both foreign and familiar at the same time. He was about to face them—his daughters, the ones he had missed out on for so many years. The ones he would make up for, no matter how long it took.
He found them in the living room. Ava, the spirited one, was the first to spot him. She looked up from her book, her eyes wide with curiosity but tinged with caution. The smile she gave him was tentative, unsure.
"Hello, Ava," Noah said, crouching down to meet her at eye level. "I'm your dad, Noah. I'm sorry I've been gone for so long, but I'm here now."
She blinked, her playful energy replaced with hesitation. "You're really my dad?" she asked, her voice small.
Noah nodded. "I am. I know it's a lot to take in, but I'm here to stay."
Ava tilted her head, studying him for a moment before her eyes lit up with a flicker of recognition. "Okay, cool," she said, her usual mischievous smile returning. "Can we play later?"
Noah chuckled, relieved by the small step forward. "We'll play whenever you're ready."
Emma, sitting quietly on the couch, watched the exchange with an analytical gaze. Her expression was neutral, but Noah could tell she was processing everything. The older, more mature sister, Emma was the one who could see through the surface.
She set her book down slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What's your plan, Noah?" she asked, her tone cautious yet direct. "Why are you really here?"
Noah stood up and faced her, feeling the weight of her scrutiny. "I'm here because I want to be part of your lives," he said, his voice steady. "I want to help, to be there for you and your sisters."
Emma raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "And you think you can just show up after five years and make up for everything?"
He nodded slowly, his heart heavy. "I can't undo the past, but I can try to make things better from now on."
Emma seemed to soften slightly, though the skepticism in her eyes didn't fade. "We'll see about that," she said, picking up her book again, her body language still guarded.
Isla had been watching them from the stairs, her face shadowed by the distance she kept from the rest of them. She didn't move when Noah looked up, nor did she offer any sign of acknowledgment. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, were fixed on the scene before her. She didn't look like the young girl he remembered. There was something different about her now, something colder.
Noah's heart clenched. Isla had always been the quiet one, but now there was an unmistakable wall between them. He wasn't sure if it was anger, hurt, or just pure confusion, but it was there.
He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to break through the silence.
As he watched her retreat to her room, he made a silent vow to himself. He would not force her to accept him. He would take things slow, be patient. Isla would come to him when she was ready.
Later that evening, Noah sat in the living room, reflecting on the day. His daughters were adjusting, albeit cautiously. Ava seemed to have accepted him already, Emma was skeptical but not hostile, and Isla… Isla was still a mystery.
But Noah was resolute. He knew he couldn't just walk away again. He had to stay. He had to fight for them, fight for their trust, no matter how long it took.
"I'm not leaving," he murmured to himself, his voice low and firm. "I'm not going anywhere."
The sound of footsteps behind him made him look up. Emma stood there, arms crossed, watching him carefully.
"You really think this is going to work?" she asked, her voice still cautious, but less harsh than before.
Noah nodded. "I do. It won't be easy, but I'm here. And I'll be here every day."
Emma seemed to consider his words for a moment before nodding slowly. "We'll see."
He smiled at her, a flicker of hope stirring within him. It wasn't much, but it was something. He had taken the first step, and now he just had to keep walking.
The next morning, Noah woke up early, his heart still heavy but resolute. He moved around the house, making breakfast for the girls, tidying up where he could. It was strange, being here—living here—but it felt right, too. He was slowly becoming part of their world again.
Ava was the first to arrive in the kitchen, her eyes bright with curiosity. "What's for breakfast, Daddy?"
"Pancakes," he said with a smile. "Your favorite."
Ava grinned and sat down at the table. Emma followed, her gaze still guarded, but there was a small change in her demeanor. She sat down beside her sister, eyeing the pancakes but not saying much.
Isla, as usual, lingered in the background, her gaze distant, but Noah could feel her presence. She was watching, always watching.
He didn't push. Not yet.
As the girls ate, Noah helped them with their morning routines, trying to make himself useful without overstepping. It was small, simple things—brushing their hair, tying their shoes, making sure they had everything they needed. But it was enough for now.
Noah watched them—Ava's bright smile, Emma's quiet acceptance, Isla's silent judgment—and he knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy. But he was ready. For them, he would fight.