Kapitel 20: Chapter 20:- Lifting The Mood
I nodded, giving her hand one last squeeze before letting go. "I'm going to make us some breakfast," I said softly. "Just try to relax."
She gave me a small nod in response, and I walked out of the room, heading to the kitchen. The quiet around the house was heavy, almost like it held all the things we hadn't said.
The house itself was simple, cozy in a way, but it had seen better days. The walls were painted a soft cream color, with faint scuff marks of my past self here and there.
Memories of better times when the house was filled with laughter and life and when the family was together. Now, it felt a little worn, like it was holding the weight of all our struggles.
I stepped into the kitchen, the small space barely big enough for two people to move around comfortably. The counters were clean, mostly because we didn't cook much yesterday. The sink was empty, and the fridge hummed softly in the background.
I pulled out some fresh vegetables, bread, and fruit—something light, something that wouldn't weigh us down. I set the pan on the stove and started chopping tomatoes, onions, and bell peppers, and decided to make a vegetable salad with toast.
I decided on a simple vegetable salad with toast. It was one of her favorites, and it gave me something to focus on besides everything else going on.
The sound of the vegetables sizzling in the pan helped ease my nerves a little, giving me something else to focus on besides the weight of what had happened.
The smell of cooking soon filled the air, and I let myself relax a little. For a brief moment, it almost felt normal, like maybe things hadn't changed as much as they had.
She was probably still sitting there, lost in her own thoughts, swimming in guilt. I didn't want that for her. And I was more and more determined to make her fall in love with me.
Even if she loves dad so much, it's taking a negative toll on her. The dead aren't coming back and she's not willing to move on. I'll make her fall in love with me as a man rather than as her son, and that too within 10 days.
I toasted the bread, set it on a plate with some fresh fruit on the side, and made two cups of coffee—hers the way she liked it, with just a splash of cream. When everything was ready, I set the plates on the small table in the kitchen, taking a deep breath before calling out to her.
When breakfast was ready, I took a deep breath and called out, "Mom, breakfast's ready!"
It took a minute, but eventually, I heard her footsteps as she came down the hall. When she appeared in the doorway. She looked hesitant, her eyes downcast and shoulders tense, like she was carrying the weight of last night. But I wasn't about to let that last.
I gave her a cheerful smile as I pulled out her chair. "Come on, sit down. I made your favorite," I said, gesturing to the toast and vegetable salad.
She sat down slowly, still avoiding eye contact as she looked at the plate in front of her. I took the seat across from her, picked up my fork, and started to eat, trying to make it feel as normal as possible.
She gave me a weak smile in return, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Samuel," she murmured. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble."
"Trouble? Are you kidding? This is the best breakfast you'll ever have." I grinned, putting on my best chef impression. "Handcrafted with love, a sprinkle of amazing skills, and a dash of 'please-eat-because-I-said-so.'"
That got a small chuckle out of her, and I took that as a win. For a few minutes, we ate in silence, the only sound being the quiet clink of silverware against plates. She barely touched her food at first, just pushing it around with her fork. But after a while, she took a small bite, then another. It wasn't much, but it was something.
She nodded but didn't say anything else. The silence between us was thick, but at least she was eating. That was a start.
I kept glancing at her, watching the way her hands trembled slightly, the way her eyes seemed distant, lost. I needed to do something to break the tension, to bring her out of that dark place she had trapped herself in before she started blaming herself again for everything that happened.
"Here," I said softly, cutting a small piece of toast and holding it out to her. "Try this. I think I made it a little better this time."
She looked at me, surprised, and for a moment, I thought she might refuse. But after a beat, she leaned forward and took the bite, chewing slowly. I watched her carefully, waiting for some kind of reaction.
"It's… it's good," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a faint smile on her lips, but it was fleeting like it might disappear at any moment.
I smiled back, feeling a small sense of relief. "I'm glad. You should eat a little more, though. You'll feel better." But then, I saw my chance.
"You know, I actually have added a secret ingredient to the salad," I said leaning forward and lowering my voice as if it were classified information.
"Oh really?" she asked, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "What's that?"
I leaned even closer, feigning seriousness. "A whole lot of… sarcasm. Trust me, I added just the right amount."
She laughed softly, covering her mouth. "You're ridiculous," she said, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes now.
"Oh, I've got more where that came from," I said, winking. "Just wait until I pull out the 'sigh dramatically while I clean' routine. It's award-worthy, I promise."
That earned me a bigger smile, and she shook her head slightly, as if wondering what she was going to do with me. Her shoulders seemed to relax a little, and the sadness in her eyes was starting to lift. I could tell my plan was working.
I picked up a piece of toast and held it out to her, like it was some fancy dish. "Here, try this. Guaranteed to cure all your sadness… or your money back."
She chuckled and took a bite, and I pretended to wait anxiously for her reaction, tapping my fingers on the table.
"It's good," she said with a small smile. "But I'm not sure about that guarantee."
"Aw, come on! Look at me, Mom, I'm the picture of a professional cook here!" I gestured to the slightly uneven toast with pride. "This toast is practically five-star. You should be thanking me."
She laughed again, shaking her head. "I think I've created a monster."
I grinned. "Too late now. You're stuck with me."
Her laughter faded, and for a moment, she looked down at her plate, her expression growing a little serious. But when she looked up at me, there was warmth in her eyes that hadn't been there before.
"Thank you, Samuel," she said softly. "I… I see what you're doing. And I appreciate it. Really."
I shrugged, trying to keep it light. "Hey, I'm just making sure you don't starve on my watch."
She smiled, this time with a bit more warmth. "You're a good kid," she said, her voice gentle.
"Good? Kid? I don't know, I'm feeling pretty grown-up and fantastic, actually," I teased, striking a fake superhero pose. "Plus, we're in this together, right?
So, no more gloomy faces. We're a team, and most importantly, you are my everything, my world, my driving force, my life, why are you being all gloomy over something we did under the influence of alcohol."
Her expression softened even more, and she reached across the table to give my hand a squeeze. "Yes, we are. And… I'll try to stop beating myself up over it. I know it's affecting you too."
I nodded. "That's all I ask. Let's just… take it one day at a time. Together. Even if what happened between us was forbidden and shouldn't have happened, why not we use it to deepen our bond."
She held my gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Okay. Together."
We finished breakfast in a much lighter mood, with a few more jokes and playful banter. By the time we were done, the heaviness that had been there before was gone, replaced by a sense of calm.
She still seemed a bit uncertain, but she wasn't drowning in guilt anymore, and that was enough for me.
As we cleared the plates, I glanced at her with a grin. "So, should we schedule this 'amazing breakfast' for tomorrow too?"
She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "We'll see. If you don't burn anything, maybe."
"Oh, the confidence! Just wait till I pull out my 'toast-flipping skills,'" I said, pretending to flip an imaginary piece of toast in the air.
She laughed a genuine, warm sound that filled the kitchen. It was the first real laugh I'd heard from her in a while, and it made me feel like we'd finally started moving forward, as she hugged me tightly, planting a forehead kiss, and she kept me close to her heart.
Author's Note:
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