Noble was reading the newspaper in his workshop, mostly because the house was too busy for him on Saturdays. He looked up, alarmed, at the sound of his workshop door slamming open and then closed, and he gaped at Daff at her appearance. He'd known she was mad, but he hadn't known that she was show up mad. He also had known that she was pregnant, but hadn't known that she was this pregnant.

He set the newspaper down on the table, devoting his full attention to her, and stood up from his seat behind the workbench because it felt odd to be sitting when she was glaring at him like that. "I know it doesn't change anything," Noble said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Noble kept his hands up. He'd never seen her this angry. "I know it's my fault," he said, trying to be measured in his tone, even as heat rose in his face. He was flustered and he was sure it was obvious. He hadn't expected her to respond, because she was married and happy and pregnant and had a whole life. "I just wanted you to know."

Noble kept himself from shrugging his shoulders, mostly because he had a feeling that if he shrugged at her now she might start swinging at him. "I wanted to be honest for once," he admitted, as if he had been fully honest when he wrote her. Full honesty would have meant signing the letter — full honestly would have meant voicing the because I still love you that was threatening to bubble up through his throat.

"I'm sorry. I truly didn't think it mattered," he added. Why would it matter to her, what he thought? They hadn't been together in years.

Noble swallowed. He was sure he could litigate it if he wanted to, because he had never promised to be happy, but he didn't think she wanted to hear it. It was hard to look at her when she was pregnant. He glanced at the floor. "You're happy so it shouldn't matter how I feel," Noble said, not sure if he was feeling guilty or ashamed or annoyed or some combination of the three. "I'm sorry I made your life harder."

The first vial glanced off of his shoulder and smashed against the table; Noble flinched. "Stop it," Noble said. Against his better judgment, he said, "I never said I was over you." He said he couldn't do it anymore, by which he meant — he couldn't get left by her again. He should have changed his mind.

It didn't matter that he'd changed it now, and maybe he should not have written her, but it was evident enough in the swell of her belly that she was happy with Grimstone.

The jar hit him in the chest and landed on the floor. Noble exhaled a frustrated breath, finally looking at her again, and said, "Then why are you here?"

He didn't understand it. She was married, she didn't love him, she was pregnant. She was still here, and he hadn't asked her to come.

She was crying. Noble pressed his lips together in a firm line, trying to keep himself from reacting with too much emotion. Usually he was the one out of the pair of them that was angry — but she was clearly much madder than he was, and Noble felt like he had used all his anger up on his family. Now he was looking at her and he felt intense regret, and his throat was thick when he said, "It's hard to love someone and not let them know."

A mirror of what he'd said to her all those years ago, essentially.

Two years ago, Noble had asked her to let him go. Now she was doing the same.

He pressed the heel of his palm to his right eye, trying to keep tears in. They didn't obey, and were starting to seep out and wet his undereyes. He was crying, fervently but without sobbing, like all the sadness he'd been trying to keep inside was seeping out despite his better judgment.

Two years ago, he'd tried to do the right thing. If he'd been a little more on top of his own life, if he'd known what was going to happen to his family, if he'd ever been braver, maybe he would have actually done the right thing.

Now he was doing something selfish and stupid and he had known the whole time that it wasn't going to help.

"Yeah," Noble said, on an exhale, "I'll leave you be."

He wasn't sure it would work. They kept traipsing in and out of each other's lives, usually on accident, and sometimes it was his fault but sometimes it was hers. But he could leave her alone, to her life. He could actually try to be better. It wasn't like either of them had any other choice.