บททั้งหมดของ THE LINE BETWEEN US : บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

I pushed open the door to the house, the smell of simmering stew drifting out from the kitchen, familiar and warm. For a heartbeat I thought it would be like any other evening, me slipping past the living room, creeping upstairs, keeping myself folded small and unnoticed.But the low murmur of voices froze me in place.I edged closer and peeked into the living room.My dad was sitting there.My dad.The same man I’d seen under the dim streetlight the night before, looking worn and ruined, now sat across from my mom like he’d never been gone at all. His back was straighter than it had been last night, his hair brushed back as if he’d made an effort. Mom’s face, God, it had been weeks since I’d seen that expression on her. Her smile looked like it belonged there, lighting up her features, softening the lines of exhaustion I’d grown used to.I lingered in the doorway, suddenly feeling like I was intruding on something fragile.“Hi,” I managed, voice quiet.Both their heads turned. Mom’s

The moment I recognized Taylor’s outline beneath the streetlight, my legs moved on their own. Relief hit me so hard it was almost dizzying, scattering every thought except one: he’s here. He’s safe.“Taylor,” I breathed again, louder this time, almost tripping over my own steps as I closed the distance.Even in the dim light I could see them, the faint purplish marks fading across his cheekbone, the thin shadow of a bruise trailing along his jaw. They were lighter than the last time I’d seen him, healing maybe, but still enough to twist my stomach into knots.But then his arms opened, stretching toward me like he’d been waiting. That small, fragile smile tugged at his lips, and it broke me in ways I hadn’t expected.I didn’t hesitate. My steps turned brisk, almost a jog, and then I was in his chest, arms wrapped tight around him. His warmth was solid, steady, and I pressed closer, burying my face against the fabric of his shirt. For a few seconds, longer than I’d admit, we just stayed

The cafeteria was loud in the way it always was at midday, voices overlapping into a low hum that never quite faded, trays clattering, chairs scraping across the floor. The smell of fries and reheated pasta clung to the air, heavy enough to make me wrinkle my nose as I pushed the food around on my plate.Taylor sat across from me, his fork balanced between his fingers, untouched. I caught him glancing at me once, twice, his brows drawn together like he was about to say something.“You’re not eating either,” I said quietly, nudging the limp fries on my tray into a messy pile.He gave a half-shrug, his eyes flicking away. “Not hungry.”I wanted to push, to ask if he’d slept last night, if the shadows under his eyes were from more than just bad cafeteria lighting. But the words felt too heavy on my tongue, so instead I gave him a small smile, hoping it would be enough to ease the tension between us.Before either of us could say anything else, a shadow fell across the table.I glanced up

The morning air carried the crisp bite of autumn as I stepped out of the gate, my sweater tugged tighter around me. For a second, I expected to see Taylor leaning against the lamppost across the street, his usual half-smile waiting for me, like he always did. But the space was empty, only the pale stretch of sidewalk catching the early sunlight.I hesitated, glancing left, then right. Nothing.The thought formed almost immediately, he must be avoiding me because of yesterday. The cafeteria. Damian. The way tension had burned between them like a fuse ready to explode. Maybe Taylor thought giving me space was the safest option.I shook the thought away, setting one foot in front of the other. Fine. If he wanted distance, I’d let him have it.But when I arrived at school, the absence hit harder. Taylor wasn’t just avoiding me, he wasn’t there at all. Not in the halls, not at our usual spot before class, not even when I stood in front of my locker. I expected him to pop out of nowhere and

The clink of my fork against the plate was the loudest sound in the room.I’d been pushing my dinner around for the better part of twenty minutes, dragging the mashed potatoes into ridges and valleys, circling the vegetables without actually eating them. My mother sat across from me, her posture light, her eyes bright in that way they got when she was keeping something to herself. There was a hum beneath her silence, a buoyant energy I could feel even across the table, like she was waiting for the right moment to spill whatever secret she was holding.Normally, I might have asked. Normally, I’d have leaned in and teased it out of her, pressed until she laughed and gave it up. But tonight, I couldn’t bring myself to care.I twirled my fork again, catching a glimpse of my mother’s smile. She hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she had, but she was too wrapped in her own excitement to comment on the fact that I hadn’t taken more than three bites.It was only after another long stretch of silence, b