Chapter 34

I leaned against the kitchen counter, rubbing my temples as the pot of soup simmered on the stove. The quiet felt suffocating today. Yesterday, everything had been fine—better than fine, actually. My parents had been in good spirits, more alert, even managing to get through the day without much of the usual struggle. So, I told the nurse to take the day off. They deserved the break.

But today… today was different.

I sighed, pushing myself off the counter and grabbing a spoon to stir the soup. It had been bubbling too long, and the smell of overcooked vegetables filled the air. I should have been more careful, but my mind was elsewhere, caught in the frustration and guilt gnawing at my insides. I should have kept the nurse on, but how was I supposed to know everything would go downhill so quickly?

I ladled the soup into two bowls, my hands steady but my chest tight. Every movement felt mechanical, like I was just going through the motions. And in some ways, I was. This had become my life—caring for them, making sure everything was perfect, because if it wasn’t, I didn’t know what else I could do for them.

As I carried the tray down the hall to their bedroom, the familiar anxiety started creeping in. Would they even eat today? Would my mother be able to hold the spoon without spilling it everywhere? Would my father manage to stay awake long enough to finish a bowl?

I pushed the door open with my foot, balancing the tray carefully. My mother was already propped up in bed, her frail frame lost beneath the blankets. She stared blankly ahead, not even turning her head when I entered. My father looked worse today, his eyes half-lidded and distant. Yesterday, they had been full of life—or at least, what little was left of it.

“Here we go,” I murmured softly, placing the tray on the nightstand. My voice felt hollow, like I was speaking into a void. I tried to help my mother sit up a little straighter, but her body didn’t cooperate. She let out a soft groan, her thin fingers curling uselessly around the blanket.

“Mom?” I asked gently. “Can you try?”

No response. Just more silence.

My father stirred a little, his hand shaking as he reached for the spoon. I quickly caught his wrist before the bowl could tip over. “Let me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I guided the spoon to his mouth, the soup dribbling down his chin as he tried to swallow. Yesterday, he had been fine—eating on his own, even joking with me. But today… today was different.

As I wiped the soup from his chin, my mind drifted to Xavier. I hadn’t told him about how quickly things could change—how one good day could be followed by a dozen bad ones. How, no matter how much I tried to control things, nothing ever stayed the same for long.

I set the bowl down and stood back, pressing my palms against my eyes for a moment, trying to force away the frustration. I hated this. Not my parents, but the helplessness. The way every day was a gamble. The way I never knew what to expect. I’d been taking care of them for years, and still, I felt like I was never doing enough.

The door creaked open behind me, and I didn’t have to look to know it was Xavier. His presence filled the room in that quiet, steady way he had. He never said much when he came here. He understood.

“Hey,” I said, my voice hoarse. I turned to face him, and the look in his eyes told me he could see right through the mask I was trying to keep on.

“Bad day?” he asked, his voice soft but firm.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I gave the nurse the day off,” I admitted. “Thought they’d be fine. Yesterday was… it was good. Really good.”

Xavier stepped closer, his hand finding mine. The warmth of his skin grounded me, but it also made everything hurt just a little bit more.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, reading my thoughts as easily as if I’d spoken them aloud.

I shook my head. “I should have known better.”

He squeezed my hand. “You couldn’t have known.”

I wished I could believe him, but the guilt wouldn’t leave me. I had always been the one taking care of them, and now… with Xavier in my life, I felt like I was being torn in two directions. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to build a future with him. But how could I, when my present was so deeply tied to this?

“They don’t know about us,” I said suddenly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Xavier blinked, his hand still wrapped around mine. “No,” he said, almost cautiously. “They don’t.”

“I want to tell them,” I whispered. “I need to tell them.”

His thumb traced gentle circles over the back of my hand. “Gideon, it doesn’t matter if they know. We know. That’s what counts.”

But it did matter. At least to me. I needed my parents to understand—needed them to accept us. I wasn’t sure if it was for their sake or mine. Maybe both.

“And if they don’t accept us?” Xavier asked, echoing the question that had been eating away at me for months.

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t want to think about that possibility, even though I knew it was real. My parents had always been traditional, stuck in their ways. There was no guarantee they’d welcome the idea of me and Xavier.

But still… I had to try.

“I’ll tell them,” I said, more firmly this time. “I don’t know when. But I’ll do it.”

Xavier nodded, his grip on my hand steady. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said softly. “I’m here.”

We stood in the quiet for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down on me, but with Xavier there, it felt… lighter. Not gone, but manageable. At least for now.