The Midnight Train

23:

The week that followed passed quietly, almost too peacefully. The rhythm of their days was slow and measured, as though the apartment had settled into a kind of limbo, much like the relationship between Nolan and Lydia. Each morning, they shared breakfast in comfortable silence, the clinking of utensils and the low hum of the coffee machine filling the space. Evenings were spent much the same, with muted conversations about mundane things—the weather, grocery lists, anything that kept them from talking about the one thing lingering between them: Natalie.

Nolan had become an expert at avoiding the ghost that haunted their shared space. It wasn’t just in the physical sense—the unopened boxes of Natalie’s belongings that still sat in the corner of the closet, or the photo albums that he hadn’t had the courage to look through—but also in the way her absence filled the apartment. The scent of her perfume had long faded from the rooms, but something intangible still remained, a presence that clung to every corner. It was in the way Nolan hesitated when passing her favorite chair, or how he left certain items untouched, as though moving them would somehow erase her memory.

Lydia could sense it too, though she didn’t bring it up. The unspoken tension between them felt like a weight they both carried, but neither knew how to address. She had learned to give Nolan his space, just as he had learned not to push her too hard about therapy. It was a delicate dance, and neither wanted to step on each other’s toes.

But today was different.

Today was day one of therapy, and the atmosphere between them had shifted. Lydia had been on edge all morning, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her eyes darting toward the clock every few minutes. Nolan noticed, of course, and though he didn’t say anything at first, he could feel the nervous energy radiating off her.

“You’ll do fine, you know that, right?” Nolan said, breaking the silence as they prepared to leave the apartment.

Lydia glanced up at him, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, I know,” she replied softly, though the tremble in her voice betrayed her anxiety.

Nolan stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently cup her shoulders. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and reassuring, “It’s just the first session. You don’t have to figure everything out today. Just... take it one step at a time.”

Lydia looked up at him, her eyes searching his for some kind of anchor. She was grateful for his presence, for the calm way he seemed to center her when her thoughts started to spiral. “What if I say the wrong thing? Or... what if I can’t even talk at all?”

Nolan gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to have the perfect words. Just be honest. That’s all that matters.”

His words settled over her like a balm, easing some of the tightness in her chest. Lydia exhaled slowly, nodding. “Okay... okay.”

With that, they left the apartment. The drive to the therapy center was quiet, but it wasn’t the heavy, uncomfortable silence that had filled their mornings. This time, it felt more like a moment of calm before the storm—Lydia steeling herself for what was to come.

When they arrived, Nolan parked the car and glanced over at her. “You ready?”

Lydia swallowed hard and nodded, though her stomach was in knots. Together, they walked inside the building, the sterile smell of the reception area hitting her as soon as they entered. The space was clean, modern, with soft beige walls and comfortable chairs scattered around a glass coffee table.

Lydia approached the receptionist, a woman with a kind face and dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. “Hi, I have an appointment with Dr. Harper at 10.”