"Kids, it's time to get ready for school!"
Paris's footsteps echoed down the hallway almost immediately. Egypt followed, chattering nonstop about not wanting to go to school, while Cairo trailed behind, complaining loudly about Egypt's missing socks and misplaced shoes.
Their voices faded deeper into the house, leaving the kitchen suddenly quiet.
Too quiet.
It was just Rome and me now.
I stood up at once. Rome remained by the kitchen counter, his hands resting flat against the surface as if grounding himself. His shoulders were tense, like a man unsure whether he was allowed to relax or even breathe in someone else's space.
I turned my back to him and began stacking the plates.
Behind me, I felt his eyes on me. Heavy and hesitant.
"I didn't mean to say that..." he said quietly.
I didn't respond.
The faucet hissed as I turned it on, warm water rushing over the plates, filling the awkward silence between us.
"I wasn't trying to cross any lines," he added. "I just…"
