Secrets of Us A Forbidden Love Romance (Alina) novel Chapter 75

Lunch

The house feels a little too quiet. I cleaned my room, straightened everything in the kitchen and still, neither of the guys has come out of their room.

It makes it hard to breathe, the kind of silence that suffocates.

I stand in the kitchen, staring at the chicken sandwiches I’ve just finished making. I set them on plates and place them on the dining table, grabbing some cups and water as well.

It’s a simple meal, nothing fancy, but it’s something. I’m trying to bridge the gap, to fix

what I feel like I’ve broken.

I write two small notes, folding them carefully. On Zaid’s, I write, Join me for lunch? On Aiden’s, I keep it the same but add a little heart at the end. It feels silly, but I slip the notes under their doors, hoping it’s enough to draw them out.

I feel like I’m back in middle school, blushing as I hand a note to my crush.

Back in the dining room, I finish setting everything up, arranging the plates and glasses

on the table.

Once I sit down, I cross my arms on my chest and a sour pain explodes in my chest. My

stomach churns and the anticipation is getting to me.

I don’t know if this will work; I don’t know if they will even get out of their rooms, but I

have to try.

I hear a door open, and my heart skips and it’s Aiden who steps off the stairs and walks

1. in.

“Hey,” he says softly, smiling at me.

“Hey.” I try not to let my disappointment show, but it’s there, a little pang in my chest. I was hoping for Zaid. My heart had been hoping for Zaid.

I don’t know how that realization makes me feel.

Aiden walks over, his expression gentle. He cups my face with both hands, his touch warm and familiar, and presses a soft, tentative kiss to my lips.

1/5

Lunch

“Thanks for lunch,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.

I lean into him, grateful for the comfort of his embrace. For the moment, I let myself sink into the safety he offers, even as a part of me wishes for someone else.

We sit at the table, and Aiden looks at the third plate, frowning for a second before he looks at me. “Did you make some for Zaid, too?”

I nod.

He presses his lips together, and his frown deepens. I ignore the panic that rises inside me from his expression.

We sit there, waiting a few more minutes.

The clock ticks loudly in the silence, and finally, I sigh. “We should eat.”

Aiden nods. As we eat, he clears, his throat, breaking the quiet.

“Thanks for pushing me to talk to him,” he says, his voice low but sincere.

I chew my food slowly, watching him silently.

“It was hard, but I needed that. I needed to say it. We both needed that.”

I look at him, surprised. “Really?” The tense silence all day had me thinking he regretted

1. it.

He nods. “Yeah. I’ve been carrying so much anger. At him, at myself. But it wasn’t anger.

It was just pain.”

I blink at him, my heart warming.

He lifts his eyes to me, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft smile. “I’ve missed him,

and I hadn’t realized how much.”

Before I can respond, the sound of footsteps on the stairs makes my heart leap. I turn toward the doorway.

My breath catches as I take him in. The messy dark hair, black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a white t–shirt clinging to the lean, defined muscles of his arms. He looks

2/5

Lunch

disheveled and moody, like he’s just rolled out of bed, but his eyes are intense, dark, like they’re devouring me.

He doesn’t smile back. His gaze stays locked on mine, unchanging, unwavering. He doesn’t even glance at Aiden as he walks over and takes a seat.

The silence stretches, heavy. I clear my throat, forcing my smile to stay.

Aiden looks between the two of us, the wheels in his head turning.

“So,” I say, “we need to start planning for Christmas. It’s only four days away.”

Aiden is the first to speak, his tone cautious. “Dad will be home by then. We could make reservations at a restaurant or something.”

I blink, staring at them. “I’ll do it. I can cook.”

They both tense again, their eyes snapping toward me. Aiden drops his sandwich to his plate, and he swallows the bite he’d just taken.

“What?” I ask, looking between them. “What’s wrong?”

Zaid whispers, his voice barely audible, “We haven’t celebrated Christmas since mom

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, stealing my breath. Last year had been the second Christmas I didn’t celebrate. Alex and dad had died just a few months before and