20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Forty Eight

"So?" Kyle's voice was soft but expectant. His eyes searched mine as I looked away, struggling to find the words.

He took a step closer and reached out, his fingers lightly brushing my chin. Reflexively, I pushed his hand away, the simple touch suddenly overwhelming.

"So?" He sighed deeply, stepping back, repeating the word like a quiet plea.

"Kyle, it's not easy." My voice trembled with the weight of what he'd just said. "You're talking about marriage... but I haven't even found my family yet. And... and I'm still so young." I swallowed hard, the knot in my chest tightening. "What am I even saying? I want this—I want you—but this feels crazy. I've broken so many rules already. My family would never let me stay alone with a man. We kissed... we've done things I never thought I would with anyone. But I still need to find my parents. I miss them so much." My voice cracked, the raw ache spilling out like a fragile river. "Kyle makes all this sadness... disappear sometimes, but without them, I feel like I'm drifting. Lost."

He studied me, his eyes blinking slowly, as if trying to absorb all my fears in a single glance.

"I understand," he said finally, voice low and steady. "But you're not too young. Young doesn't mean can't. If we want to get married, we will. And no one can stop us."

I shook my head, uncertainty wrinkling my brow. "Our parents... Kyle, we both have parents. You can fight your family, maybe force them to accept things. But I can't. I can't do that."

He paused, his expression thoughtful, then asked quietly, "Why do you assume they'll refuse?"

"Kyle..." I bit my lip. "Where are they? Where are my parents? I want them. I just want to see them again." The dam broke. Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and unchecked. My voice became a whisper, almost pleading. "I'm so scared I'll never find them."

He didn't hesitate. Kyle closed the distance in a heartbeat, wrapping me in a strong, protective embrace. His arms around me were warm, a shield against the storm inside.

"Shhh... I'm here. I'm with you. And we will find them. Please—just breathe. Be okay." He patted my back gently, steadying me.

I looked up at him, my eyes shimmering with tears, silently begging for hope, for reassurance. "Will I?"

His voice was firm as he nodded. "I promise."

"We have to go back to that place. To the authorities. Please, Kyle. We have to ask. I need to know." The desperation in my voice was raw.

"Okay. Let's go now." He grabbed his car keys, flashing me a reassuring smile. The sudden decisiveness surprised me, but I was grateful. I needed to know.

We drove in silence to the same bleak office where the search for survivors and missing passengers had been ongoing. Kyle asked me to wait in the car, careful not to let me hear any bad news. My heart hammered; I prayed silently for their safety.

Minutes later, Kyle returned, a smile tugging at his lips. My breath hitched. Did they find them? Were my parents safe?

"What?" I blurted, scrambling out of the car before he could say more.

"Wait. Let's talk in the car," he said, his tone serious.

I obeyed, sitting tense and trembling beside him.

"They told us," he began slowly, "there are no more passengers missing or dead. They've found almost everyone... and most have been taken to their home country." He paused. "Your parents—there's a chance they're there."

Relief flooded through me like sunlight breaking through clouds. They were alive. They were safe. But the ache remained—knowing they weren't here, not yet with me. My mind spun, torn between joy and the hollow spaces their absence left.

I closed my eyes, fighting back the whirlwind inside. I felt guilty. Guilty when I laughed, when I smiled, when Kyle's presence made me happy. Was I allowed? Should I allow myself joy when I still didn't know where my family was? I loved Kyle, yes. But at times like these, it felt like loving him was a betrayal to the pain I carried.

Twy, stop being a drama queen, I scolded myself silently.

"Kyle," I finally whispered.

"Yes?" His voice was gentle, waiting, as if he could hear the storm inside my head.

"I need to be alone," I confessed, tears slipping down my cheeks again.

His face tightened, the fear clear in his eyes. "That's what I've been afraid of. Twy, please... I want to be beside you."

But I wasn't hearing him. Not now. I needed space—not to push him away, but to catch my own breath. And, truthfully, I didn't want him to see how broken I felt.

"I really need this," I said, closing my eyes, silently begging him to understand.

"Every time you choose to be alone, it only makes things worse," he groaned, frustration creeping into his voice.

"Kyle..." I whispered again, almost pleading.

He started the car, eyes fixed on the road. "Don't ever think I'll leave you. It's done. I'm not going anywhere. Not just for you, but for me too."

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold night. I wanted to argue, to say I could handle the pain alone—but suddenly, all I felt was the overwhelming safety of him beside me.

Oh, Kyle. I needed you more than I realized. I love you.

⸻

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