20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Thirty five

I knock on Kyle's door. No answer.

I gently open it and find him sitting on the bed, his hands covering his face.

"Kyle," I say softly, unsure if I should be speaking to him right now.

He doesn't respond, so I walk in and sit beside him.

"I don't know what happened between you and Jack, but clearly, you're not okay." I touch his shoulder gently—it's firm and warm beneath my hand.

He lowers his hands and looks at me.

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask. I hate seeing him like this.

He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs.

"We could go for a walk," I suggest. "Fresh air might help."

After a pause, he nods. "Let's go."

He stands and stretches his hand out for me to take. I smile and slip my hand into his. The gesture feels oddly comforting—crazy, even.

We walk toward the front door, our fingers still entwined. It makes my heart feel light.

The garden is breathtaking. A burst of colors and fragrances—roses, lavender, daisies, flowers I don't even know the names of. The scent alone fills me with calm. It's a garden that speaks of peace.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I say, stretching my arms and inhaling deeply.

He glances at me from the corner of his eye and smiles faintly.

"Wanna walk further?" he asks, raising his brows.

I nod.

I want him out of this dark mood, and being near him when he's like this... makes me feel close to him.

"What's your biggest goal, Twy?" he asks suddenly, as we walk along the gravel path.

"My goal?" I laugh softly, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "That's a serious question."

He shrugs and looks away.

No one's ever asked me that before. Maybe no one ever cared enough. I haven't even asked myself lately.

"I don't know if I really have one," I admit. "Right now, it's just... finding my parents and figuring out how to survive. Does that count?"

He chuckles. "Maybe."

"What about you?" I ask. "Do you have a goal?"

He thinks for a moment. "Honestly? No. I don't think I do. Anything I want, I usually do it the next day. So I guess I never stick to something long enough to call it a goal. Or maybe I do... I don't know. That's a hard question."

I smile. "It's kind of depressing not to have one... makes me feel like I haven't achieved anything."

"You do have a goal," he says, looking at me intently. "A goal doesn't have to be huge. Right now, your goal is to find your parents. And you will."

His gaze is sincere. I swallow the emotion rising in my throat.

"Thanks... for the positivity."

"Thanks for cheering me up."

"Did I?" I ask, blushing.

He chuckles. "Yeah. You did."

—

Later, we're seated at a quiet little restaurant. He ordered us breakfast. I'm sipping the Nescafé he chose for me—it's surprisingly good.

"Do you have any siblings?" he asks between bites of sausage.