𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗟𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦 ✔️ (𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀)

➼ Chap. 03 ⭑

Maybe ten minutes later, I heard her coming down again—quieter this time. She walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, then the cabinet. The way she moved told me she was trying too hard to act normal.

I gave it another beat, then stood up and followed.

She was by the counter, reaching for a glass. Her eyes were red. Not puffy, not dramatic—just a little off. Like she'd been holding back tears all day and was losing the battle.

"Hey," I said, leaning a hip against the doorway, arms folded across my chest. "You good?"

She froze, just for a second. Then she nodded without looking at me.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Sure, I thought.

"You don't look fine."

She gave a little shrug, poured herself some juice, and avoided my gaze. I walked over and opened the pantry. Pretended to be looking for something.

"You know," I said casually. "I'm not just here to eat all your dad's food. I'm a decent listener too, in case you forgot."

Paris let out a breath, almost a scoff.

"I didn't forget."

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

She hesitated. I saw it in the way her fingers tightened around the glass.

"It's stupid."

"Yeah, probably," I smirked. "But stupid stuff gets under your skin too. So tell me anyway."

She was quiet again. Then, finally, she leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest like armor. Her voice came out small.

"There's this girl at school—Amanda. She's always had something to say about me. I usually don't care, but today she told some people I only get attention because my mom died. That I'm milking it for sympathy."

I blinked. Then blinked again.

She was looking away now, chin tilted up like she was trying not to cry in front of me.

"And it's not even just what she said," she went on, voice cracking. "It's the way people laughed. Like it was true. Like... like I'm a joke."

There was a pause. Just the hum of the fridge between us.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm too much. For people," she said quietly. "Like I'm either invisible or... too loud, too emotional, too weird. I don't know. I didn't think it would get to me, but it did."

That's when I saw the tears fall. And something in me shifted. Not out of pity. Not out of duty to Richard. But something deeper—something I wasn't ready for. I didn't say anything right away. I just stepped closer and gently took the glass from her hand so she wouldn't drop it.

"Look at me."

She hesitated, then met my eyes.

"You're not too much," I affirmed, voice lower now. "You're not invisible either. And anyone who can't handle all the things that make you you—they're just not worth your time."

She blinked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. I reached up instinctively and brushed it away with my thumb. It was a small touch. Barely a second. But it lit something in my chest I didn't want to name.

I didn't see a kid anymore.

I saw a girl—no, a woman—standing there with a cracked heart and so much fire behind her eyes, trying to be strong even when she didn't have to be. And I wanted to hold her. Protect her. Not like an uncle, not like some family friend. As a... man.