Chapter 21

Five minutes had slipped by, maybe six, in a silence broken only by the distant tick of a cheap clock scraping at the edges. Madison sat at the tiny kitchenette table, her hands wrapped tight around a steaming mug of tea she hadn’t touched. Her reddened eyes stared into the amber liquid without really seeing it; fresh tears quivered on her lashes, ready to spill with the slightest blink.

She sniffled softly—a tiny, almost childlike sound that twisted something deep in Alan’s chest. Across from her, he stayed frozen, elbows on the table, fingers clenched together. His ploy had worked. Too well. Way too well.

He’d watched her crumble, bolt in here sobbing, beg him not to do “something stupid.” And now, facing this big sister he’d always known as strong and independent, reduced to a little girl crying into her tea, he felt ... moved. Deeply.

“Alan...” she murmured at last, her voice cracked, barely audible.

“I’ve been a shitty big sister ... Fuck, I’m awful. I focused everything on me, on what I was feeling, like you were just ... the villain in the story. I didn’t think about you for a second. Not really. I’ve been crap, Alan. Total crap.”

Her voice shattered on the last word. She dropped her head, shoulders shaking with a silent sob, tears finally splashing into the tea one by one—tiny, soundless bursts on the surface. Alan felt his own shame coil tight in his gut. He drew a deep breath, searching for a way out.

“Madi ... listen. You want to ... stick around a bit? I can order a pizza if you’re hungry. We eat, we talk...”

He hesitated, his voice a little rough.

“ ... you forgive me?”

Madison lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were swollen, glistening, still brimming with tears she held back with fragile willpower.

She nodded—a tiny, almost invisible motion, as if any bigger gesture might unleash the flood again. So damn sensitive, this one. Way more than he’d imagined. Alan felt a sad, almost tender smile slip out despite himself.

“That’s yes to the pizza ... or yes to forgiving?”

The silence hung for a second. Then they both burst out laughing at the same time—an absurd, jittery, freeing laugh that shook their shoulders and rattled the mug on the table. A ridiculous, over-the-top laugh that said everything they couldn’t put into words: the strain, the guilt, the relief, the sheer insanity of it all. Madison wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, still caught in little hiccups of laughter mixed with leftover sobs.

“Both, asshole ... Both.”

A little later, the pizza had arrived—a big, steaming margherita plunked down on the table between them like a white flag. Madison was calmer now, tears dried, face still flushed but settled.

Alan felt reassured, and deep down, genuinely glad she’d gotten it. That she was here. That they were ... them again.

The meal stayed quiet, though. Madison ate slowly, drained from all the crying, as if the built-up stress from these past days—the video, the fight, the fear, the sleepless nights—had finally crashed out all at once. She was empty. Utterly.

Her shoulders sagged, her movements heavy, and every so often she’d stare at some invisible spot on the table, lost in a haze of exhaustion. Alan watched her from the corner of his eye, his heart squeezed by a guilty tenderness he didn’t dare name.

The silence, oddly, wasn’t heavy. It was just ... there. Like a fragile shell after the storm.

Alan finally broke the silence, his voice low and tentative, like he was dipping a toe into still-rippling waters.

“And your job hunt—any luck with that?”

Madison let out a deep, weary sigh that slipped from her chest like a quiet surrender. She grabbed a slice of lukewarm pizza, biting into it without much gusto, a long string of cheese stretching from her lips to the crust before snapping and dripping onto her chin. She chewed slowly, her eyes half-lidded, and mumbled between bites:

“I haven’t really made time for it ... Not properly. With everything that’s gone down these last few days, I just ... blanked on it.”