Chapter 155 Chapter 155

Chapter 155 Chapter 155
The rest of the morning moved slower once the phone call ended. Mia put the groceries away without comment. She still didn’t have much to say, but the sharp, snapping version of herself had retreated. Laura handed her a cutting board and a few carrots without asking questions, and Mia stood at the counter chopping in silence while her mother moved around her with the easy rhythm of someone who had decided not to press. Mark came in from the garage with a smear of grease across one knuckle and the satisfied look of a man who had fixed a small problem with his hands. He washed up, glanced at his daughter once, and only said that the weather was good enough for sitting outside later.
Sophia stayed nearby but gave her space. She put the milk in the fridge, folded the paper bags, and talked to Laura about nothing important the price of strawberries, a new coffee place near her apartment, the way the neighbor’s dog still barked at every delivery truck. The ordinary talk filled the kitchen without demanding anything from Mia.

By midday the air in the house had leveled.
They ate leftover turkey sandwiches on the back porch. Mark brought out a pitcher of iced tea. Laura insisted everyone take at least two sandwiches. Sophia claimed the corner chair and stretched her legs into the sun. Mia sat on the top step with her plate balanced on her knees, listening more than speaking. The conversation drifted from the fence Mark wanted to repair to Laura’s plans for the garden in the spring. No one brought up the morning’s mood. No one asked why Mia had been so short with the world for a few hours. The silence around that subject felt deliberate and kind.
After the food was gone Mia remained on the porch while the others carried plates inside. She rested her arms on her knees and looked out at the small stretch of yard and the quiet street beyond it. The man who had been chopping wood the day before was nowhere in sight. Everything looked ordinary again.
Sophia came back out after a few minutes and dropped down beside her on the step.
“You’re quieter now,” she said. “Less ready to fight the entire grocery store.”
Mia let out a short breath that was almost a laugh. “I was that bad.”
“You were pretty bad. The cashier is probably still recovering.” Sophia bumped her shoulder lightly. “Do you feel better after talking to him?”
“I feel less stupid.” Mia picked at a loose thread on the hem of her shorts. “I spent the whole morning treating everyone like they had personally wronged me because of a makeup stain. That’s not a great look.”
“You got scared and then you got angry. Then you got embarrassed. It’s a normal cycle when you care about someone and something looks wrong.” Sophia leaned back on her hands. “The important part is you didn’t stay stuck in it.”

Mia was quiet for a while. A car passed on the street. Somewhere two yards over a lawnmower started up and then cut off again.
“I hate how fast my head went to the worst version,” she said eventually. “One second I’m watching him sleep on a video call. The next second I’m convinced there’s a whole story I don’t know about. And then I’m downstairs snapping at my parents like they had anything to do with it.”
Sophia nodded. “You’re used to things blowing up. The blackmail video, Veronica at the gate so your brain is trained to expect the next hit. So when something looks even a little off, it jumps.”
“That doesn’t make it fair to the people who were just trying to eat breakfast around me.”
“No but it’s understandable and your parents are fine. They’ve seen you in worse moods than this.” Sophia glanced at her. “You miss him. That’s the other half of it.”
Mia didn’t deny it. She kept her eyes on the yard. “I do. Even when I’m annoyed and even when I’m embarrassed that I reacted so hard. I still miss him.”
“That’s allowed.”
“It feels inconvenient.”
“Most real feelings are.”

They sat there until Laura called them in to help with dinner. The evening meal was simpler than the turkey the night before a big bowl of pasta with meat sauce, a green salad, garlic bread that Sophia kept stealing from the basket before it reached the table. Mark told a long story about a man at the hardware store who had given him incorrect advice about a pipe fitting. Laura corrected half the details. Sophia laughed at both of them. Mia ate, listened, and let the ordinary noise of the kitchen settle the last restless places inside her. After the dishes were done she stayed downstairs longer than she had the previous evening. She sat through half of an old movie with her parents and Sophia, her legs tucked under her on the sofa, the glow of the television the only bright thing in the room. When the movie ended she finally stood and said she was going up. In her room she sat on the edge of the bed with the phone in her hands for a long time before she called him.
Kai answered on the third ring. His voice was low, a little rough around the edges, like he had been doing something physical and had only just stopped.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
A short silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, just careful.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Mia lay back against the pillows and stared at the familiar ceiling. “I overreacted, I know that.”
“You reacted to what it looked like,” he said. “I understand why and I still should have noticed the mark was there before I fell asleep on a video call with you.”
She turned onto her side, phone tucked against her ear. “I don’t want to keep doing this. Seeing something public, assuming the worst, and then spending hours angry at everyone around me because of it.”
“Then I’ll tell you about the brand stuff before it drops,” Kai said. His voice was steady, practical. “Even the ones that look more intimate than they are. You’ll hear it from me first. I wouldn’t want you finding out from a trending page.”
The promise settled something that had still been tight in her chest.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay.”
Another quiet stretch. She could hear him moving on his end the soft sound of a door, then the shift of fabric as he sat or lay down.
“How’s the house?” he asked.
“It’s fine my dad is happy. My mom keeps trying to feed us every hour. Sophia is exactly the same. It’s loud in the best way.”
“You sound better than you did this morning.”
“I feel better.” She hesitated, then told him the truth she had already admitted to Sophia. “I still miss you. Even after the way this morning went.”
Kai’s voice softened. “I miss you too. One more day.”
“One more day,” she repeated.
The number felt smaller now that it was spoken out loud. They stayed on the line without filling every second. It wasn’t the charged, teasing quiet they sometimes fell into. It was steadier than that. Mia listened to him breathe. Somewhere downstairs her parents were still talking in low voices. The house felt full and safe around her. After a while Kai’s responses started to slow.
“You’re falling asleep,” she said.
“Almost.”
“Go to sleep.”
“You first.”
She smiled at the dark ceiling. “Goodnight, Kai.”
“Night, Mia. One more day.”
“One more day.”
She waited until his breathing evened out completely before she ended the call. Then she set the phone on the nightstand, turned onto her back, and stared at the shadows on the ceiling of her childhood room.
One more day with her parents and Sophia and one more day of ordinary noise and ordinary quiet. Then she would go back.
The thought didn’t feel as heavy as it once might have, It just felt true. She closed her eyes and let the familiar sounds of the house carry her under.