There was something about winters in the Limson's house.
The way the wind curled around the old windows,how the cold seep into the silence of the halls,and how evey room still smelled like polished woods and forgotten summers.
Lydia stood by the tall window of the drawing room,watching pale clouds drift over bare trees.Her fingers loosely curled around her hair,her thoughts somewhere far from the quite hum of conversation echoing through the house.
She hadn't seen Max in two years.
Not since the last family gathering.Not since the night he offered to drive her home and she'd said no,afraid that sitting next to him in that car would make her heart give too much away.
He was her cousin.
Not by blood—second cousin.But close enough that the word always hung heavy between them.
"Lydia"
She turned.
And there he was.
Max ,standing in the doorway like no time had passed.Taller,broader,the edge in his jaw sharper now—But his eyes that same quiet brown,still made something twist deep inside her.
He smiled.That same half-smile he always gave her when no one else was looking.
"Didn't think you'd come this year",he said,stepping in.
"I almost didn't ",she replied.
His gaze heed hers for a sec longer than it should have.Then he looked away,walking to the other side of the room and pouring himself a glass of water like the tension between them didn't hum like electricity.
"I missed this place" she said.
No....
She missed him.
Not the rooms or the quiet roads or the smell of old books,Just him.Always him.
Max leaned against the table glass in his hand, "you still write?"
She hesitated "sometimes"
He nodded. "I read one of your old poems the other day.The one about rain and the letter that never got sent"
She stilled.
"I didn't know you kept them,"her voice barely above a whisper.
"I dint mean to,"he said, " but some things…stay"
Lydia didn't speak.She couldn't.Because in that moment it felt like he wasn't talking about poems at all.
The silence stretched again,soft and almost sacred.
They were always like this— close enough to feel it .She wondered if he ever stayed up at night,thinking about the time they sat on rooftop,sharing headphones and not saying a word.She did.All the time.
He finished his drink,set the glass down and for a brief sec,he looked at her like he wanted to say something.
But he didn't.
Neither did she.
Because love is safest when unspoken.
She wasn't ready to bleed that truth yet.