Becoming strangers again (Lily and Ryan)



LILY

Something is bothering Ryan, and it's becoming painfully obvious that he's hiding it from me. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's bothering you?" I asked for the umpteenth time since we left for the airport. His response was that same practiced smile the kind that doesn't even reach his eyes.All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," he lied, leaning over to kiss my temple. "Just some stress at work, nothing more."

I knew he wasn't being truthful, but I decided to let it go, at least for now. If he wasn't willing to share, there wasn't much else I could do. Silence hung in the car for the rest of the ride as I stared out of the window, lost in my thoughts.

At the airport, the boys were reluctant to say goodbye to Ryan. I could see how much they didn't want to leave, and it made my heart ache. He kissed me as well, but the kiss lacked warmth-it was routine, without the love that should've been there. And truth be told, my heart wasn't in it either. How could it be, when I knew my husband was keeping things from me? The last time he acted like this, it ended with Stephanie showing up and us getting divorced. So forgive me if I'm more than a little worried.

Finally, I boarded the jet, and it took off.

Life resumed on Monday morning, and things slowly returned to normal. It was slightly different in the sense that Ryan and I actually said a few words before I drove the boys to school.

After dropping the kids off, I made my way to the hospital and pulled into the parking lot. Walking toward the elevator, I had my eyes glued to my phone, scrolling through the news on the inte.

"Welcome back, Ms. Williams." A familiar voice startled me, and I looked up to find Dr. Amell, his lips quirked in amusement. "Do I need to remind you about the dangers of walking around with your eyes glued to your phone?" he asked, clearly enjoying himself.

I gave him a pointed look, choosing not to dignify that comment with a response. I stepped into the elevator, and he joined me.

“Are you ignoring me after I saved your life?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sliding my phone into my purse, I folded my arms across my chest and regarded him with suspicion. "You made it very clear that we weren't friends, Dr. Amell. So what is this behavior?" I questioned, genuinely curious.

He offered a small smile. "I saved your life," he repeated.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that part of your job description?"

He chuckled, clearly amused by my irritation. "What is?"

"Saving lives," I deadpanned.

He shrugged casually. "Doesn't mean you shouldn't be appreciative."

I gave him an incredulous look. "I've thanked you numerous times already. What else do you want from me should I prostrate myself?"

The elevator pinged, and I let out a sigh of relief as the doors opened. I was just about to make my exit when he grabbed my forearm, stopping me in my tracks.

I looked back at him, exasperated. "Am I expecting an apology right now?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

He chuckled again. "More like a request."

I blinked, taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"I need your help with something," he said, his tone losing some of its earlier playfulness. "Consider it as you showing gratitude for saving your life."

This man had an ego that truly needed studying. "Or we could just call it what it is-you asking for a favor," I countered.

He grimaced, shaking his head. "I hate owing people favors, so let's not call it that."

I sighed, getting increasingly fed up. "Fine, I'll help if it's something I can actually do. Come by my office during lunch, and we'll talk."

His face brightened, and he smiled widely. "Thank you."

I held up a hand in warning. "But don't come empty-handed. If you're taking up my lunch break, you owe me at least a meal."

He chuckled. "I will."

gave him a mock salute before turning and walking away, eager to get back to work.

A few minutes before lunch, my secretary called to let me know that Dr. Amell had arrived. I sighed, preparing myself for whatever absurd request he was about to make, and told her to send him in. He walked in, carrying two plastic bags, his lips curling into a slight smile.

"You told me not to come empty-handed,” he said, lifting the bags.

He set them on the coffee table, and I joined him in the seating area. "So, what exactly do you need my help with, Dr. Amell?"

He opened one of the bags and handed me a plate of pasta with a fork. “I ordered it from my favorite restaurant."

I accepted the plate with a nod of thanks, twirling some pasta onto my fork. "Thank you. Now, let's hear it—what's this favor you need?"

He cleared his throat, his expression growing serious. "My sister is coming back home after a long time-thirteen years, to be exact. I want to do something special for her: redecorate her room, get her a thoughtful gift, maybe even throw a welcome party."

I frowned slightly, unsure of my role in all this. "And where do I fit into that?"

He looked almost sheepish. "Jean-my sister-and I have had a complicated relationship over the years, so things between us are a bit awkward."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what is my involvement in all of this?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I want you to help me design her room. I can give you her Instagram handle. so you can get an idea of her likes and dislikes. And I'd also like you to help the pick out a gift, and maybe plan the welcome party-invite some of your friends to make the place lively."

I blinked, momentarily stunned by the request. "First of all, I'm a doctor, not an interior decorator. I think it's

best if you hire someone for that

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But I can help you pick out a gift no big deal there. As for the party wouldn't it make more sense for her friends or your family to be there?"

His shoulders slumped slightly, and he looked uncomfortable. "Jean is the only family I have left. She's been away for thirteen years, so she doesn't have any friends here."

I hesitated. "What about your friends?"

He shook his head. "I don't really have friends. I prefer to keep my circle small."

"Well, that makes two of us. I don't have anyone I could invite," I said.

He shifted in his seat, looking almost desperate. "What if you came with your husband and kids? Jean loves children."

I almost laughed at the thought. "Ryan would never come to a stranger's housewarming party. He's far too busy for that."

He chuckled, though it was filled with a hint of defeat. "I wouldn't either, but I'm desperate." He set his plate down, looking at me earnestly. "What if

you attended, then?"

I paused. "Me?"

"Please," he said, his tone softening.

I shrugged. "I'll think about it and get back to you."

He smiled knowingly. "That sounds a lot like a no."

"I'm not making any commitments right now," I said. "So, all I have to do is help you pick a gift, right?"

He shook his head. "And help with her room. I'm not comfortable letting a stranger into my home."

I frowned slightly. "I am still a stranger."

"Whose life I saved," he pointed out.

Rolling my eyes, I finally gave in. "Fine. I'll help you decorate her room and pick a gift."

“And plan her welcome party," he added.

I glared at him. “I said I'd think about attending."

"That's for attending," he corrected. "This is for the planning."

"Fine," I relented.

He grinned, a look of genuine gratitude crossing his features. "Thank you so much." He glanced over at my desk. "Your phone's been buzzing on the

table. You might want to check that."

I hurried over to my desk, picking up my phone. Five missed calls from Ryan.