“And you got married because of that?”
Julian nodded. “My father told me that if I wanted to keep my position in the company, I had to marry her and go to rehab. So here I am.” He lifted his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “Married and getting sober.”
“Wow… that’s a lot.”
Julian nodded and reached for his coffee again, needing something to occupy his hands. The conversation had veered into territory that made him uncomfortable—not because of Elijah's openness, but because it forced him to confront how little he actually knew about the woman he'd married.
"What's her name?" Elijah asked, settling back in his chair.
"Kiara." It felt strange to name her as his wife. It was still an unfamiliar connection, despite everything that had happened between them. "She grew up on the same property where Angela—that's one of my sisters—was held after she was kidnapped."
Elijah's eyebrows rose. "That sounds like quite a story."
"It is." Julian found himself explaining more than he'd intended, telling Elijah about the kidnapping, about Kiara and Angela coming to live at the estate, about the late-night conversations in the library that had led to their current situation.
Julian was sure that Duncan wouldn’t have been pleased with him revealing all of that to someone, but something told him he could trust Elijah. He hadn’t come to rehab thinking he’d meet someone who could become a friend. And yet, it felt like Elijah was becoming just that.
After they’d talked for a few more minutes, Julian glanced at his watch. “I think I’m going to go to my room for a few minutes before the group session. I need to read the rest of my letter.”
The two of them left the dining room together and walked toward the section of the large building where the rooms were located. Their rooms were on the same side of the hallway, but a couple of doors apart.
“See you in a bit,” Elijah said as he continued down the hallway.
Julian let himself into his room, which looked more like a hotel room than the hospital room he’d expected. It was decorated in shades of blue and gray with white trim. There were heavy dark blue curtains framing a large window that gave him a view of the distant mountains, and the bedspread on the surprisingly comfortable bed matched the curtains.
They were all responsible for keeping their rooms tidy, and he’d had to get used to making his own bed. Their laundry was still done for them, which was good because he wasn’t sure he’d know how to do it.
Julian settled on the one comfortable chair in the room, a recliner, and turned Kiara's letter over in his hands. The cream-colored envelope felt heavy with possibility. What had she written? Was she angry? Indifferent? The uncertainty made his stomach clench.
He slid his thumb under the flap and carefully opened it, pulling out several sheets of matching stationery. Her handwriting was neater than his, with gentle curves that somehow suited her.
Dear Julian,
Thank you for your letter. I was surprised but happy to hear from you. I’ve been hoping things were going okay, so it was good to hear that after a rough start, you’re feeling better.
After I read your letter, I told your dad that you were doing alright. He was concerned, so I hope that was okay. I didn't share any of the details of what you wrote.
I'm doing better than I was. The morning sickness is still there, but the medication Doctor Misha prescribed helps… sometimes. I still get tired easily, but I've been trying to walk every day. The doctor says it's good for me, and I think she's right.
I'm starting to notice a small bump now. Nothing obvious when I'm dressed, but definitely there. I haven't had my first ultrasound yet, but it's scheduled for next week. I'm both excited and nervous to see our little bean for the first time.
Julian was struck by the words "our little bean." She saw the baby as something that connected them, not just as her child. He tried to imagine what she might look like, with the first signs of pregnancy showing. The image was fuzzy in his mind. He knew her face, of course, but he hadn't paid close attention to her figure before, and he had no memory of it from their time together.
I still don't know if it's a boy or a girl, but they might be able to tell me at the ultrasound. I'm not sure whether I want to find out or be surprised at the birth. What do you think?
Julian paused in his reading, surprised she'd asked for his opinion. What did he think? He hadn't considered whether he wanted to know the gender ahead of time.
It felt like such a normal question. The kind of thing expectant parents might discuss over dinner or while preparing the nursery. Not something spouses who were essentially strangers would debate via letters sent back and forth while one was in rehab.
Duncan has been checking on me daily, which is both sweet and a little overwhelming. Elizabeth has been wonderful too, giving me ginger tea and ginger candy to help with the nausea.
Angie’s been a constant support through all of this, just like she always has been. She's excited about being an aunt, though I can tell she worries about me even though she doesn’t need to. I’m doing fine.
I've been spending time at the construction site for the house. It's coming along quickly. Duncan insisted they work longer hours to finish sooner. I think he wants Angie and me to have our own space ASAP, which we appreciate.
I've been thinking a lot about what you wrote regarding feeling like a fraud in group therapy. I don't think you shouldfeel that way. Just because your problems look different from others doesn't make them less real. You were hurting enough to need help, and that's what matters.
The words hit something in Julian's chest, a tightness he hadn't known was there. He appreciated her validating what he was going through without comparing it to people whose struggles might be more impactful than his.
