That Killed Us 16

Chapter16 

“You work this many shifts every week… just so you can send money to the orphanage?” 

Lydia Rivers held Noah Sterling’s notebook, her eyes wide with surprise. 

Noah calmly took it back, his fingertips brushing the remittance slip tucked inside. His voice was even, almost understated. 

“Yeah. It’s the orphanage where I grew up. Evelyn Carver–the director–raised me. Now it’s my turn to take care of them. 

That was when it finally clicked for Lydia. 

That was why, even with top scholarships, he still juggled two part–time jobs, wore the same faded shirts, and always chose the cheapest meals in the dining hall. 

Most of his earnings weren’t for himself at all. They all went straight to St. Gabriel’s. 

Her chest tightened as she studied his lean profile. What rose inside her was complicated–part sympathy, part deep admiration. 

And the more she came to know him, the more she realized Noah was far more extraordinary than she had imagined. 

At the university’s annual arts festival, Lydia had found him backstage at a grand piano, his fingers moving with effortless grace. The melody spilled into the air so naturally that passing professors stopped in their tracks, quietly listening. 

Later she learned he could also play the guitar and the violin–skills passed down by a retired music teacher at the orphanage, Arthur 

Whitaker. 

“You’re seriously good at everything, aren’t you?” she asked once while they were running errands together. 

Noah was pushing a shopping cart, examining cartons of 

milk. His tone was matter–of–fact. 

“At the orphanage, I had to pick up whatever would help Evelyn. Later, working different jobs, I just kept running into problems. You figure it out, or you don’t make it.” 

He said it lightly, but Lydia could imagine the weight behind the words–this quiet, aloof boy grinding through obstacles alone, carrying more responsibility than most his age. 

Beneath that reserved exterior lay a resilience and a gentleness–that no one would expect at first glance. 

In early December, the Alderton Museum of Art hosted an “Impressionist Retrospective.” Lydia had been talking about it for weeks. 

When Noah found out, he traded shifts just so he could take her. 

By the time they left the gallery, snow had begun to fall, blanketing the streets in white. The two of them walked side by side, boots crunching softly against the fresh layer. 

Streetlamps stretched their shadows long across the snow, and flakes drifted into their hair, melting almost instantly. 

At the bus stop, Noah suddenly halted. 

He turned to her, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, ears burning crimson. His hands fidgeted at the ends of his scarf as if to steady 

himself. 

“Lydia,” he breathed in, voice trembling but firm. “I like you.” 

Her heart skipped hard, words deserting her. 

“I always told myself I didn’t have time for this,” Noah went on, his gaze unwavering. “I didn’t want to drag someone into my mess, into all the things with the orphanage. But now the youngest kids are in middle school. They don’t need me sending so much anymore. I finally have space to… to be with someone.” 

He swallowed, every syllable weighted. 

“So… would you want to be with me?” 

Chapter 16 

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Lydia’s breath caught. In her mind flashed the moments that had quietly bound them together–the way he crouched on the floor to fix her laptop, the way his fingers trembled while bandaging her cut, the sandwiches he slipped into her bag when she forgot to eat. 

Every hesitation she had vanished like smoke. 

She smiled, her voice light but sure. “Yes. I want to.” 

Noah froze, stunned, as though he hadn’t dared believe it. 

When she reached forward, tugging gently at his sleeve, he finally came back to himself. Slowly, a small smile unfolded across his face, 

and in his eyes was the gleam of starlight. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he clasped her hand in his, warm and dry, his palm slick only with a nervous sheen of sweat. 

Snowflakes swirled down around them, the bus stop aglow in soft yellow light. Against the winter night, their joined hands radiated a quiet, undeniable warmth. 

Chapter16