"He's not sure yet," she replied honestly. "I think they evaluate his progress as they go."
Duncan nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. "I appreciate you letting me know. I've been concerned. I know he probably thinks I sent him to the treatment center as a punishment, but it really wasn’t.”
Kiara didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. She suspected that Duncan just needed to talk.
“I was worried about him,” he said, his gaze going distant. “No parent likes to see their child destroying themselves, especially when they don’t know why it’s happening.”
Kiara found herself nodding, even though she couldn't fully understand Duncan's perspective as a parent. The closest she'd come to that kind of protective love was what she felt for Angie, and now, increasingly, for the tiny life growing inside her.
"I'm sure he knows you care about him," she said softly, though she wasn't entirely certain that was true. Julian's letter had carried undertones of resentment, even if he'd tried to mask them with humor.
Duncan's expression grew thoughtful. "I hope so. Sometimes as a parent, you have to make decisions that your children won't understand or appreciate, at least not right away."
The weight of his words settled over her. Soon, she'd be making those kinds of decisions for her own child.
"Was there anything else in the letter that concerned you?" Duncan asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
Kiara shook her head, pushing aside the memory of Julian's description of his withdrawal symptoms. Those details felt too personal to share, even with his father. "No, nothing that concerned me. He was just updating me on how he's adjusting."
Duncan's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Good. Thank you for sharing that with me. I know Julian values his privacy, so I appreciate you giving me what you could. I know this whole situation has been overwhelming for both of you. An arranged marriage isn't likely what either of you had planned for your lives."
The understatement almost made Kiara laugh, but she managed to keep her expression neutral. "No, it wasn't."
"I hope you know that my decision wasn't made lightly," Duncan continued, his voice taking on a more formal tone. "I believe it's what's best for the child, and ultimately for both of you as well."
Kiara nodded, though privately she wondered if Duncan truly believed that or if he was simply trying to convince himself that his ultimatum was justified.
“Do you plan to write Julian back?” Duncan asked.
Kiara hesitated, then nodded. “I think it’s important to keep the lines of communication open while he’s there. And since he chose to reach out to me, I figured I should write back.”
“You’re right,” Duncan said. “Thank you for doing that. It’s good he’s communicating with someone, and I’m glad it’s you.”
Kiara wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but she didn’t press for an explanation. Pushing up from the chair, she said, “I’ll let you get back to work. I just wanted to give you an update.”
Duncan also got to his feet. “Thank you for that.”
As Kiara made her way back upstairs, her mind was already composing the letter she wanted to write to Julian. Back in her room, she settled at the small desk and pulled out a sheet of the cream-colored stationery that had been in the drawer when she'd moved into the room.
Propping her chin on her hand, she stared at the paper, her mind suddenly blank as she considered what to share with Julian.
There was so much she wanted to tell him. Things like how she’d felt hearing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. Or howshe worried about becoming a mom. They were things soon-to-be parents might normally share with each other in the course of a pregnancy, but she didn’t think they were at a place in their relationship for her to do that.
And they might never be.
Regardless, she felt she owed him something, so she picked up her pen and began to write a letter to her husband.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julian got up after a restless night.Anotherrestless night. He’d known that he was using alcohol to help him fall asleep, but it had apparently also helped to keep him knocked out for the night.
He hadn’t had a restful night since arriving at the treatment center. Each morning, when his alarm went off to get him up for the day, he had to drag himself out of bed.
Would it ever get better?
After a shower, he made his way to the dining room. The smell of food and the sound of muted conversation mixing with the clink of silverware on dishes greeted him well before he reached the door.
As Julian stepped into the doorway, his gaze swept the room, taking in the now familiar faces, along with a couple of new ones.
