The Stranger I Married-Chapter 126: Scared

Nicholas stood by the kitchen window, phone pressed to his ear, the soft murmur of the city below drifting upward through the glass. He hadn’t meant to walk away from Ella—she was still in bed, curled into the pillows he’d fluffed for her, half-dozing after he fed her strawberries and toast—but the call had come through unexpectedly.

And he knew better than to ignore his mother’s number.

He hadn’t spoken to her in over a week, and that was rare. Too rare.

"Nick," her voice came through, smooth and measured—but he caught the shift in it instantly.

Something had cracked.

"Mother," he said quietly, eyes drifting to the skyline. "Did Rosa tell you to call?"

"No. I found out myself."

He closed his eyes. Of course she did. Nothing ever escaped Vivienne Carter when it came to her son—not the stock markets, not his public appearances, and certainly not the private things he tried to shield from her. He had made sure news of Ella’s accident never made it to the press—no headlines, no social media whispers. It had been deliberate, ruthless, airtight.

And yet, here she was.

"How?" he asked, voice flat.

A pause.

"You know how," she replied coolly. "I have friends in the hospital board. Someone flagged your emergency visit and your request to seal the records. After that... it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest."

He swallowed a curse. "It wasn’t supposed to concern you."

She sighed, the sound far more fragile than he expected.

"It always concerns me when you disappear. When you stop taking calls. When your staff says you’re in the penthouse with someone but won’t tell me who."

Nicholas leaned his hip against the marble counter, fingers tightening around the edge. "I had a reason."

"I know," she said quietly. "That’s why I’m calling."

His jaw ticked.

"She’s okay," he said after a beat, softer now. "Ella. She’s—recovering. A few broken ribs. A concussion. Bruises. But she’s okay."

There was a long silence.

Then his mother exhaled again, this time slower. More deliberate.

"You sound like you’ve been holding your breath since it happened."

"Because I have," he said, and the words escaped before he could stop them.

Vivienne didn’t speak for several seconds.

"I had a moment," she said at last, her tone shifting. "Last night. I remembered the look on your face when you got the call about Alina."

His chest tightened like a rubber band stretched too far.

"Mother," he warned, his voice lowering.

But she pressed on.

"You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You just... shut down. Went completely quiet. You didn’t speak for hours. Not even when your father flew in. You locked yourself in that awful guest suite and didn’t come out until morning."

Nicholas turned away from the window. His reflection in the glass was sharp, tight-lipped.

"That was years ago."

"I still remember it."

He let out a breath that trembled slightly. "That was different."

Vivienne was quiet for a moment, then: "Are you sure?"

Nicholas’s throat worked. "Alina died. Ella didn’t."

"And yet I heard it in your voice, Nicholas. That same silence. That same fear. You were afraid you’d lose her. Don’t lie to me and say otherwise."

He didn’t.

He couldn’t.

His mother knew him too well. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"She was in a crash," he said quietly. "A car that shouldn’t have been anywhere near her veered across two lanes and hit them broadside. If she’d been sitting two inches to the left..."

He stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. The thought was still too much.

"You did everything you could," Vivienne murmured. "You’ve kept her safe. You even made sure the press wouldn’t touch it."

He nodded slowly, his voice low and uneven. "And it still wasn’t enough."

"You love her."

Nicholas didn’t answer right away. His hand flattened against the cold surface of the counter, grounding himself.

"Yes."

Another pause.

"She makes you vulnerable."

"She makes me human."

Vivienne’s voice wavered slightly. "Then maybe that’s a good thing."

Nicholas looked toward the bedroom door, half open. The soft hum of music played from inside. Ella was probably scrolling aimlessly through her phone, tucked into his sheets, with her hair a mess and her wrist still wrapped in gauze.

She had cried when she woke up in the hospital. She had whispered, "I thought I wouldn’t see you again," and he had held her like the world was ending.

And maybe, for him, it would’ve been.

"You always hated it when I got too close to someone," he said softly.

"I didn’t hate it," his mother replied, gentler now. "I feared it. Because I knew what would happen if you lost them."

He swallowed hard. "Then maybe you understand why I can’t lose her."

"I do." Her voice cracked. "That’s why I’m checking in. Not on her. On you."

That undid something in him.

The years of hard edges and high expectations. The polished suits and stony glances across boardroom tables. His mother—Vivienne Carter—was rarely vulnerable, and even more rarely tender.

But now?

She was a mother calling her son. And Nicholas couldn’t pretend he didn’t need to hear it.

"I’m okay," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Not great. But okay. She’s recovering. I’m... figuring it out."

"Let her in, Nicholas. All the way."

"I have."

"And don’t try to handle the grief alone when it hits you. You’re not made of steel. You never were."

He smiled faintly. "You told me I had to be."

"I was wrong."

That silence returned, but this time it was warmer.

More forgiving.

"I’ll let you go," Vivienne said gently. "You have someone waiting."

"I do," Nicholas murmured.

"I’ll call again soon. And Nicholas?"

"Yes?"

"I’m proud of you."

He closed his eyes, his chest tight, his breath shaky.

"Thank you."

When he ended the call, he didn’t move for a long moment. Just stood there, letting the weight of the past press gently against the present. Not crushing—just reminding.

Then he turned and walked quietly back to the bedroom.

Ella looked up as he came in, smiling sleepily. "Everything okay?"

He nodded and slid into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Yeah. Just my mother," he said, pressing his lips to her temple. "She was checking on me."

Ella blinked. "On you?"

"She heard about the crash."

Ella’s expression softened instantly, guilt flickering across her face, but Nicholas cupped her cheek, shaking his head.

"She was just... being a mom."

Ella leaned into his touch, searching his eyes. "And how are you, really?"

He smiled—small, crooked, real.

"I’m okay," he said. "I wasn’t. But now that you’re here—now that you’re safe—I’m getting there."

She curled closer to him, their foreheads touching.

"Then let’s get there together."