Morning Vows
Soft beams of morning light spilled gently into the room, painting golden streaks across the walls.
Amelia stirred beneath the light covers, eyes still swollen from the night before.
The air smelled faintly of lavender and something warmer, like toast and eggs.
A quiet knock sounded on the door.
She didn't respond right away, just sat up slowly, pushing her hair back as the door creaked open.
Harrison stepped in, holding a tray with careful hands.
His expression was calm, but his eyes searched hers with silent concern.
"I made you breakfast," he said softly, walking over and placing the tray on her side table.
"You barely ate anything yesterday. I thought this might help."
Amelia's eyes welled again, not from sorrow this time, but from the quiet tenderness in his gesture.
The eggs were warm, the buttered toast neatly cut, and a cup of tea still steaming.
She looked up at him. "You didn't have to do all this."
"I know," he said, crouching slightly to meet her gaze.
"But I wanted to. I didn't want you waking up alone… not after last night."
Amelia nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
She reached for the tea and took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle in her chest.
The silence between them was full, but not uncomfortable.
Harrison stood, giving her space, but lingered by the window. "You don't always have to be strong, Amelia.
Not with me."
Her fingers tightened around the cup. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that."
"You didn't fall apart," he replied gently. "You remembered. That's not weakness."
She gave him a faint smile, one laced with pain and gratitude.
"Thank you, Harrison. For staying. For understanding."
He returned her smile, a bit softer, a bit more hopeful. "Always."
As he stepped toward the door to give her some privacy, Amelia's voice stopped him.
"Stay a little longer?"
He turned back, nodding. "Of course."
And so, they sat in shared quiet, the morning wrapping them in a fragile peace, an unspoken vow that neither would let the other carry pain alone again.
The house had grown quieter. The usual hum of group chatter reduced to whispers out of respect for her.
Eli lingered at the doorway for a moment before raising a hesitant hand and knocking twice.
No answer.
He pushed the door open gently. "Amelia?"
She was sitting up on the bed, legs tucked beneath her, staring absently out the window.
Her eyes were tired, swollen at the edges, but dry now.
She turned at the sound of his voice.
"Hey," she said softly, offering a weak smile.
Eli stepped inside, hands in his pockets, expression apologetic.
"I just wanted to check on you. I… I know last night was hard."
Amelia nodded, looking away. "Yeah."
He moved closer, standing beside the edge of the bed but not sitting down.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry I made you remember them like that.
I didn't mean to hurt you.
I just… I saw you crying, and everything inside me wanted to make it stop, and instead I made it worse."
Her eyes flicked back to his.
His voice was honest. Pain. Regret. Guilt.
"You didn't mean to," she said, voice calm but heavy.
"Sometimes memories just come. Even if we try to lock them away."
Eli's voice cracked a little as he added, "I should have been more careful.
You've always been so strong for everyone, even me, and I should have been the one to protect your peace."
She looked at him then, fully.
The boy who had been there when the world fell apart for her.
The one who gave her comfort during sleepless nights.
The one who, perhaps unknowingly, had carried pieces of her heart even when he didn't ask for them.
"I know," she said quietly.
"And you were there for me, Eli.
You've always been.
Last night wasn't your fault. I just… I think everything I've been holding in finally broke through."
He moved a little closer. "You don't have to hold it in anymore."
"I don't know how not to," she admitted.
Silence hung between them for a beat.
"I'll help," he said. "Even if all I can do is sit beside you when you cry. I'll help."
Amelia's throat tightened. Her fingers clutched a corner of the blanket.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For being here. For caring."
Eli hesitated, then slowly reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
His fingers were gentle, uncertain. "Always."
She leaned into the gesture for just a moment, just enough to feel the warmth, not the confusion.
Then she straightened a little, offering another soft smile.
Unspoken Turns
The afternoon sunlight danced across the garden stones as the house slowly came alive again.
Laughter trickled from the kitchen where Lena and Kai were trying to cook something vaguely edible, and soft music played upstairs from Harrison's open room.
Eli stood in the hallway, back against the wall, arms crossed as his eyes flicked toward the living room, where Nora sat, reading a book she wasn't focusing on.
Her legs were tucked underneath her on the couch, her posture calm, but he could see the slight twitch of her jaw.
Her gaze shifted every time he got closer.
He cleared his throat, casually walking toward her.
"Hey," he said, voice light. "Haven't seen much of you today."
Nora didn't look up. "I've been around."
He sat on the armrest, inches away. "You're ignoring me."
"I'm not," she replied too quickly. "Just keeping to myself."
"That's not like you."
She finally looked at him, book still open in her lap.
"Maybe you just don't know everything about me, Eli."
He blinked, caught off-guard by the weight in her words. "That's not fair."
Nora closed the book and stood up.
"Neither is overhearing something that was never meant for your ears."
"You think I wanted to hear you cry for me?"
Eli stood, stepping in front of her as she tried to walk past.
"Do you know what that did to me?"
Nora's gaze held steady, guarded.
"You don't get to do this, Eli. Not now. Not when everything's tangled the way it is.
Amelia is still hurting. And so am I."
He softened. "Nora…"
She stepped back. "Please, just stop."
"I just want to talk. To clear things up"
"There's nothing to clear, Eli. You kissed me. I kissed you back.
But we both know who your heart beats faster for."
Eli was silent, guilt threading through his chest.
"I care about Amelia. And I care about you too," he said.
"And that's exactly the problem," she whispered, eyes stinging.
"You care too much. About everyone. But I can't be the second heartbeat you try to save."
Without waiting for a response, she brushed past him and walked down the hallway, leaving Eli standing there with the weight of every unsaid word pulling at his chest.
The Edge of Tomorrow
The night air was unusually still, as if even the stars were holding their breath.
Nora lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts louder than the music someone was playing faintly down the hall.
Every word Eli had said earlier played on repeat.
Every look he gave. Every time she saw his hand twitch, like he wanted to reach for her and couldn't.
She pressed her palm to her chest.
Why did that kiss happen?
Why did she let it?
It had been everything and nothing at once.
A moment wrapped in emotion, confusion, and longing. But also, regret.
She closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, she told herself.
Tomorrow, I'll be better. I'll smile. I'll not care so much.
Downstairs, Eli sat on the porch steps with his hoodie pulled up, the cold breeze brushing over his face.
His phone buzzed with a message from Kai:
"You okay?"
He didn't answer.
Was he?
His feelings had always felt so certain.
He had known he loved Amelia.
Or at least, he thought he did. But the past few days, Nora's selflessness, her tears, her quiet strength, had cracked something in him.
Something deep and true. Something that scared him.
He sighed and typed back:
"Trying to be."
Elsewhere in the house, Amelia stood by the window in her room, arms folded, watching the garden below.
A part of her had healed a little after Harrison's comfort.
After Eli's apology, a storm still raged inside her.
Tomorrow, she told herself.
Tomorrow, she'd ask.
In the quiet corners of the night, each of them stood at the edge of something. Regret. Change. Love. Hope.
And as the sky began to lighten, carrying the weight of all their silent questions, a new day slowly crept in…
With it, the edge of tomorrow.