20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Fifty three

Twyla's POV

I woke up slowly, blinking at the familiar ceiling of my room. It still felt strange—my own bed, my own space—but after everything that happened, I needed to adjust. A million thoughts swirled in my mind. Where did Kyle stay last night? Was he really at home? What if he didn't sleep alone? What if he was with some other girl? No. No, I can't think like that. I trust him. I have to.

I swung my legs over the bed, stretched, then shuffled to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, took a warm shower, and slipped into fresh clothes. It felt surreal to have my own wardrobe again—my clothes, my accessories, my perfumes, all lined up neatly like before. Little comforts like these grounded me.

As I stepped out, the smell of something sweet and buttery greeted me. I found Mom in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with a practiced smile.

"Yummy!" I clapped my hands.

Mom grinned. "I know you love them."

I smiled but secretly wrinkled my nose—pancakes and syrup always felt too heavy for my stomach.

"Has Dad come back yet?" I asked, pulling up a chair.

Mom shook her head. "No, sweetheart. He'll be here tomorrow."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I missed Dad so much. He was the one who always defended me when Mom said no. He'd convince her to let me go out or try something new. I loved him more than words could say.

From the dining room, Grandma's voice chimed in, playful as always. "Whose birthday is tomorrow?"

I froze. Oh God, it's my birthday. Nineteen. How had time flown so fast?

"Thank you for remembering, Grandma," I said, walking over to kiss her cheek.

She tugged my nose gently. "I could never forget my little girl's birthday."

"Are you sure I'm still your little girl?" I teased.

She smiled warmly. "You'll always be my little girl."

For a fleeting second, I wished Kyle was here to celebrate with me. I don't even think I ever told him my birthday. Maybe he forgot.

⸻

Kyle's POV

I woke up to Mom standing over me like a storm cloud. So much for Maria keeping my visit a secret—I should have guessed better.

"Good morning," I muttered, barely opening my eyes.

"Finally!" Mom snapped, arms crossed.

I rubbed my face. "Missed you," I lied. She clearly didn't buy it, but I wasn't in the mood to argue.

"Of course she left you. I told you so. She just wanted your money."

I blinked, confused. If she meant Twyla, I had no energy to correct her. How would I even explain that I planned to marry her?

"Mom, please," I said, sitting up. "If you mean Twyla, we're still together. I'm not going anywhere. No matter what."

"She's not your type. I don't know what you see in her," Mom said sharply.

I sighed. Twyla wasn't the "type" I'd imagined either. But love doesn't fit into a checklist. When you love someone, you see beyond flaws and types. She taught me what real love means.

"Did you like any of the girls you said were your type?" I challenged.

Mom huffed. "I liked Selena. She was rich, educated—"

"That's the problem. You only cared about her family. Did you ask me what I wanted? Did you ever consider my feelings?" I felt the anger rising. "You never cared about me."

"Family background matters," she shot back. "Good family, good reputation, good looks, good manners."

"Okay, sure," I said firmly. "But I have to love her first. And Twyla has all that—kindness, innocence, beauty. Her history? It's like a clean white page."

Mom narrowed her eyes. "Who are her parents? Are they well-known?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "Is that all you care about? Mom, I love her. I want you to put my happiness first."

I grabbed my towel and headed for the door. I couldn't handle this fight now. I needed to be calm around Twyla. She's too sensitive.

⸻

I made my way to Twyla's house. I wish I could call her—make this less awkward—but she still didn't have a phone. I knocked lightly.

"Hey Kyle, welcome!" Mom greeted me warmly from inside. She was so kind. I didn't understand why mine couldn't be like her.

"I'm sorry to bother you," I said quickly.

"Oh no, it's okay." She led me to the living room.

⸻

Twyla's POV

I heard Kyle's voice from the living room. My heart jumped. He came! I missed him so much.

"Kyle," I whispered, spotting him talking quietly with Mom. Something felt off, but I pushed it aside.

"Twy, how are you?" He asked, smiling.

I laughed softly. He never asked me that before.

"Alright. What about you?" I replied, trying to sound casual.

"Great. Actually, just because I saw you," he said with a smirk.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. His words felt real, not just empty flattery. Maybe he went home last night and got kicked out? His mom did seem harsh.

I glanced at Mom. She hadn't offered him breakfast.

"Come have some breakfast," I invited.

"Oh no, I just came to see you and say hi. I have to go," he said, standing abruptly.

Wait—he came just to say hi? I felt a pang of disappointment. I needed him to stay. To be my constant again. But he had his life—friends, family, and probably other girls waiting for him.

"See you," he said before leaving.

I sighed. Okay, Kyle.

"Mom, I talked to Emma. She wants to meet today," I said, hoping to distract myself.

"Today? Why not tomorrow? Dad might come back today," Mom bit her lip anxiously.

"Wasn't it tomorrow?" I frowned.

"Plans changed. He'll come today now."

I nodded. "Okay. I'll tell Emma."

⸻

Author's note:

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