Love Novel 62

The house feels a little too quiet. I cleaned my room, straightened everything in the kitchen and still, neither of the guys
has come out of their room.
It makes it hard to breathe, the kind of silence that suffocates.
I stand in the kitchen, staring at the chicken sandwiches I’ve just finished making. I set them on plates and place them on
the dining table, grabbing some cups and water as well.
It’s a simple meal, nothing fancy, but it’s something. I’m trying to bridge the gap, to fix what I feel like I’ve broken.
I write two small notes, folding them carefully. On Zaid’s, I write, Join me for lunch? On Aiden’s, I keep it the same but
add a little heart at the end. It feels silly, but I slip the notes under their doors, hoping it’s enough to draw them out.
I feel like I’m back in middle school, blushing as I hand a note to my crush.
Back in the dining room, I finish setting everything up, arranging the plates and glasses on the table.
Once I sit down, I cross my arms on my chest and a sour pain explodes in my chest. My stomach churns and the
anticipation is getting to me.
I don’t know if this will work; I don’t know if they will even get out of their rooms, but I have to try.
I hear a door open, and my heart skips and it’s Aiden who steps off the stairs and walks in.
“Hey,” he says softly, smiling at me.
“Hey.” I try not to let my disappointment show, but it’s there, a little pang in my chest. I was hoping for Zaid. My heart
had been hoping for Zaid.
I don’t know how that realization makes me feel.
Aiden walks over, his expression gentle. He cups my face with both hands, his touch warm and familiar, and presses a
soft, tentative kiss to my lips.
“Thanks for lunch,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.
I lean into him, grateful for the comfort of his embrace. For the moment, I let myself sink into the safety he offers, even as
a part of me wishes for someone else.
We sit at the table, and Aiden looks at the third plate, frowning for a second before he looks at me. “Did you make some
for Zaid, too?”
I nod.
He presses his lips together, and his frown deepens. I ignore the panic that rises inside me from his expression.
We sit there, waiting a few more minutes.
The clock ticks loudly in the silence, and finally, I sigh. “We should eat.”
Aiden nods. As we eat, he clears his throat, breaking the quiet.
“Thanks for pushing me to talk to him,” he says, his voice low but sincere.
I chew my food slowly, watching him silently.
“It was hard, but I needed that. I needed to say it. We both needed that.”
I look at him, surprised. “Really?” The tense silence all day had me thinking he regretted it.
He nods. “Yeah. I’ve been carrying so much anger. At him, at myself. But it wasn’t anger. It was just pain.”
I blink at him, my heart warming.
He lifts his eyes to me, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft smile. “I’ve missed him, and I hadn’t realized how much.”
Before I can respond, the sound of footsteps on the stairs makes my heart leap. I turn toward the doorway.
My breath catches as I take him in. The messy dark hair, black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a white t-shirt clinging
to the lean, defined muscles of his arms. He looks disheveled and moody, like he’s just rolled out of bed, but his eyes are
intense, dark, like they’re devouring me.
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I smile at him, unable to help myself.
He doesn’t smile back. His gaze stays locked on mine, unchanging, unwavering. He doesn’t even glance at Aiden as he
walks over and takes a seat.
The silence stretches, heavy. I clear my throat, forcing my smile to stay.
Aiden looks between the two of us, the wheels in his head turning.
Zaid looks down at his sandwich and the muscle in his jaw ticks as he picks it up to take a bite.
“So,” I say, “we need to start planning for Christmas. It’s only four days away.”
Both brothers freeze, their sandwiches pausing mid-air.
Aiden is the first to speak, his tone cautious. “Dad will be home by then. We could make reservations at a restaurant or
something.”
I frown, tilting my head. “On Christmas Day?”
He shrugs, avoiding my gaze. Zaid finally speaks, his voice low and rough. “None of us can really cook.”
I blink, staring at them. “I’ll do it. I can cook.”
They both tense again, their eyes snapping toward me. Aiden drops his sandwich to his plate, and he swallows the bite
he’d just taken.
Zaid’s expression darkens, his jaw tightening.
“What?” I ask, looking between them. “What’s wrong?”
Zaid whispers, his voice barely audible, “We haven’t celebrated Christmas since mom passed.”
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The words hit me like a punch to the chest, stealing my breath. Last year has been the first Christmas I didn’t celebrate.
Alex and dad had died just a few months before and neither mother nor I could manage to get out of bed.
I understand the feeling.
I look at Aiden, whose face is a mixture of guilt and sadness, then back at Zaid, whose eyes are fixed on his plate.
“Oh,” I whisper, the weight of their grief sinking into me.
The silence returns, heavier than before, and I don’t know how to fill it.
But I want to try.
Aiden gets up and clears his throat. “I-I have to be somewhere.”
He turns and leaves the house; the door slamming behind him. He didn’t grab his keys or his wallet, so something tells
me he just had to get out of here.
I want to cry.
My eyes land on my lap when I turn back around. And I only manage to stop myself from trembling when Zaid stands
and kneels beside my chair. His hand squeezes my thigh and I look at him..
He frowns when he sees the tears in my eyes. “I can get a tree.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“A Christmas tree.”
I bite my lips as they tremble more. “You-you don’t have to do that. I shouldn’t have — I overstepped.”
He glances up at me and shakes his head softly. “I think if anyone can get us to celebrate Christmas again, it’s you.”
I gasp, suddenly wanting to kiss him. But he doesn’t give me the chance. He stands and sits back down. We eat in silence,
and Aiden doesn’t return