The Fate Of Broken Hearts

Chapter 48

My eyes cracked open to the light shining through the drapes and illuminating the tangle of sheets we laid in. The silence of the street and the soft orange glow accompanied by it gave me a sense of peace and comfort.

I lifted my head slightly, taking in the sound of Aiden's breathing. I observed how his chest rose and fell, captivated by the serenity he found in his sleep.

When I finally decided to get up from the bed, I made sure I was careful not to wake him while I moved to the kitchen.

I prepared a hot pot of fresh coffee and took out a cup.

I was in the middle of washing a few dishes when Aiden's hoarse and tired voice echoed in the hallway.

He found me in mere moments, scanning the room.

"Hi." His smile was lazy and slanted, too drained to be symmetrical.

"Good morning." I greeted him in return, pointing at the cup I was preparing. "Coffee?"

"Please," He nodded and dragged his feet against the floorboards.

He observed me from afar, watching as I poured coffee into both mugs.

"About last night," He began quietly, "I wanted to say thank you."

I took a pause and raised my eyes, not saying a word.

"I know it's not fair that I need you the way I do. And that the only time you get to actually touch me is when I'm in need of it. That isn't fair to you. So, I wanted to express my gratitude."

I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face. I wiped my hands clean and stepped over to him.

"Aiden, I am perfectly fine with you needing me."

"Really?" His brows shot up.

"Yeah... We have our obstacles, I'll confess, but we'll work through them. We will make compromises."

"So, you're not mad about last night?"

"You thought I would be mad at you?" My tone dropped in the way it usually did when it wondered more than what it asked. "I will never be mad at you for that."

His chest expanded and soon caved, grabbing the two cups and bringing them to the table.

Meanwhile, I remained in the kitchen, retrieving a pan and two eggs. I broke the first egg into a mixing bowl and whipped it until it was entirely yellow. Then, after properly greasing the pan, I poured it in.

"Do you like eggs?" I asked Aiden, who sipped his coffee and muttered a sluggish 'yes'.

I sprinkled a couple more ingredients on top and rolled it in half with a spatula. When Aiden hovered over me, his breath near to my cheek, I placed the fried egg on a dish and prepared to make another.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making omelettes." I smiled proudly, whisking the egg.

"Omelettes?"

My face sank. "Please tell me you like omelettes... I just thought since you liked eggs..."

He chuckled beside me, "I like omelettes. It's just that I don't remember anyone ever making me breakfast before."

I waved the spatula in the air, "Then I'm glad I'm your first. I make a mean omelette with cheese. My mom used to make them for me all the time when I was little. I was obsessed with them."

"You are so sweet-hearted." He smiled vibrantly. And with a breath, he silently mumbled, "My sweetheart."

I neatly sprinkled cheese over the egg and rolled it up the same way my mother taught me. I placed it on a separate plate and lined it up with the other, gazing at the masterpieces I created, I placed my hands on my hips, feeling triumphant.