Chapter 20

Kim avoided dinner.

That was the first sign something was more seriously wrong.

Ethan called him twice from the kitchen, loud enough for the whole house to hear, but Kim only replied with a muted, “I’m not hungry.”

Ray tried not to react, but her fork trembled slightly against the plate.

 She kept her expression calm for Ethan’s sake, but her stomach had already tightened into a knot she couldn’t untangle.

Ethan didn’t think much of it.

But Ray knew Kim better than she meant to.

And the Kim she’d slowly learned to read — the Kim who noticed everything — didn’t skip meals unless something was eating at him instead.

After dinner, she hesitated outside Ethan’s room, where Kim was staying. The faint glow under the door told her he was still awake.

She raised her hand to knock.

Then stopped.

What if he didn’t want to talk to her?

What if she’d misunderstood everything between them?

Her throat tightened again, the same way it had earlier on the back steps. 

She hated this feeling — this fragile ache that made her feel ridiculous and sad.

But doing nothing hurt worse.

So she quietly knocked.

There was a pause. Then another.

Finally, the door opened — only halfway.

Kim stood there, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, hair slightly messy like he’d kept running his fingers through it. 

His eyes flickered for a moment — confusion, then caution.

Ray forced a small, hesitant smile. “Can we talk?”

Kim didn’t speak, but after a few seconds he stepped back and let her in.

The room was dim, the curtains closed, the air heavy with the silence he’d been sitting in. Kim leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely — not defensive, just uncertain.

Ray stood a few steps away from him.

She couldn’t be closer.

Not when he looked ready to retreat at any moment.

“…You’ve been distant all day,” she whispered. “I know you said everything’s fine, but it doesn’t feel fine.”

Kim’s jaw tightened.

“It’s nothing you did,” he said quietly. “I’m just—”

He stopped, searching for words that wouldn’t come.

Ray waited.

Kim exhaled shakily, staring at the floor. “Sometimes I just… don’t know how to act. Around you.”

Her breath caught.

He continued, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to make things uncomfortable. And lately I feel like… I might be.”

Ray’s heart thudded painfully. “You’re not,” she said immediately. “Kim, you haven’t made me uncomfortable. Not once.”

He finally looked up at her — and the raw honesty in his eyes made her chest tighten.

“You don’t know that,” he murmured. “Sometimes I think I should just… stay out of your way.”

Ray felt something inside her crack.

“Why would you think that?” she asked, her voice soft but breaking around the edges.

Kim swallowed hard.

And for the first time, she saw it — the reason behind his distance.

Fear.

Not of her.

But of his own feelings.

Of getting too close.

Of being wrong.

Of misreading everything between them.

Ray stepped closer, only half a step, slow enough for him to move away if he wanted.

He didn’t.

“You don’t have to disappear just because things feel confusing,” she whispered. “You can talk to me. Or at least… not run from me.”

Kim’s breath faltered.

For a moment — one suspended second — he looked at her like he wanted to say something honest, something big, something he had been holding back.

But then he blinked, shutting the moment down gently but firmly.

“I’m trying,” he said. “I just… need time.”

Ray nodded, though the knot in her chest tightened.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Just… don’t shut me out completely.”

His expression softened in a way that hurt more than it comforted.

“I won’t,” he promised.

But Ray could feel it — the unspoken truth under his words.

He was already halfway gone into his own confusion.

And she couldn’t reach him unless he let her.

As she stepped out of the room, she glanced back.

Kim was still watching her, eyes soft, hands unsure at his sides — like someone torn between stepping forward and holding himself back.

Ray closed the door gently.

Then leaned against it, eyes burning.

Everything between them was changing.

And she didn’t know if it was pulling them together…

…or pulling them apart.

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