20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Fifty two

I return quietly to my grandma and mom, their worried eyes already fixed on me. I can tell they have so many questions — questions I want to answer, but right now, I just don't have the strength. I want to sink into the comfort of silence, to rest without talking, but I know it won't last.

"How did you know this guy?" Mom asks gently, her voice soft but full of curiosity and something else I can't quite place.

I sigh and sit beside them. "He was the one sitting next to me on the plane. I don't know if you noticed him or not."

Mom shakes her head slowly. "No, I didn't." Her voice feels distant, like she's trying to figure him out in her mind.

But then grandma cuts in with a warm smile, "He sounds like a good guy to me. You can tell when someone really cares."

I glance at grandma, feeling an unexpected rush of gratitude. She's always been a steady, kind presence, the one person who somehow understands everything.

Mom nods thoughtfully. "Okay... But how exactly did he help you? Tell me everything."

I take a deep breath and try to gather the memories that still feel like they belong to someone else. "I was unconscious when the plane fell," I start slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't remember anything... just him holding me in the ocean. Then I woke up on a ship, alone, and every day after, I went to the port searching for you both. Where were you? What happened with you and dad?"

The questions hang heavy in the air, but I don't have answers. I want to, but it feels like a wall between us has suddenly appeared. My mom's eyes soften, but she waits patiently for me to continue.

"I stayed with him in a hotel room. I didn't have anywhere else to go. I was so lost, so scared. But he was with me from the beginning, so I had no choice but to stay." My voice shakes a little as I say it. "Every night, I'd lock myself in the bathroom and sleep there. He never tried to hurt me. Not once."

Please, God, let her believe me. Let her not be angry.

Mom looks at me with a mixture of relief and worry. Then she asks, "Why didn't you try calling family? Grandma, for example? Why didn't you come home by yourself? You're not a child."

I feel the sting of her words deep inside me. I always knew this moment would come — the moment where she questions my choices. The moment where my mistakes are put under a microscope.

Before I can respond, grandma winks playfully and says, "Who would leave this handsome guy and go traveling on their own? You had your reasons, dear."

Her lightheartedness breaks the tension, and I want to laugh, but the weight of everything keeps me still.

"Mom," I say quietly, "I didn't think about anything clearly. It was all so overwhelming. It was my first time traveling, and then the crash... It was too much. I didn't know where you were. I didn't know what to do. I just waited... waited to find you."

The tears come without warning, hot and fast. I try to stop them, but they fall anyway. I miss Kyle so much it aches. I miss the silly fights, the stolen glances, pretending we weren't jealous when we really were. I miss my family, my home, my life before everything changed.

Grandma groans softly, and mom immediately pulls me into her arms. I feel safe there, held tightly against her.

"If you only knew how much I missed you," she whispers, her voice trembling.

"I missed you too," I murmur, clinging to her. I don't want to let go.

"Please don't leave me again," I whisper, sounding like the scared little girl I used to be.

Mom strokes my hair gently. "I won't. I promise."

After a while, she lets me go, smiling softly. "You need to get some rest, honey."

I nod, exhausted. Sleep is what I need most.

"Good night, grandma. Good night, mom," I say quietly as I head toward my old bedroom.

My bedroom. The place where I used to hide, cry, dream, write, and just be myself. I smile, remembering all those nights wrapped in blankets, feeling safe from the world.

I close my eyes, hoping to see Kyle tomorrow. The thought gives me a little peace before sleep finally claims me.

⸻

Kyle's POV

Leaving her was like tearing my heart in two. I don't think I've ever missed someone this much. Sometimes I wish I could tell her the truth — how many times I hoped she'd never find her parents. That sounds cruel, but I'm not a bad guy, at least not for her. I wanted to be her only safe place, the one person she could trust. Her backbone, her love, the one she'd get scared of losing.

But when I see how much she needs her family, how much she's missing their arms around her... I want to do anything to bring them back to her. To make her whole again.

I knocked on my front door, trying to ignore the exhaustion dragging me down. I wasn't ready to see my own parents yet — not just now.

The maid answered. She was new. I didn't recognize her, but she seemed to know me well.

"Oh, Mr. Kyle?" she said, surprised.

"Yeah. Can you let me in?" I tried to sound calm, but my voice cracked.

She smiled and stepped aside. "Sure."

I needed her to keep this visit a secret. "Maria... could you do me a favor? Please don't tell my parents I'm here — just until tomorrow."

She bit her lip and nodded. "Okay."

I gave in when she mentioned my 'new room.' Mom always had to rearrange everything whenever I was away.

"Show me," I said.

She led me down the hall, winking playfully. The whole situation was almost comical. "I'll prepare your dinner," she said, looking me up and down.

"No, thanks. I just want to sleep," I said, barely able to keep my eyes open.

As she left, I whispered, "Don't forget... no one knows I'm here."

Closing the door behind me, I sank onto the bed. My mind was full of Twyla — her laugh, her tears, her pain. I swore to myself I'd do whatever it took to be the person she needed. Always.

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Author's note:
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