Chapter Nine: Dinner, Diagnosis, and Domestic Chaos
The kitchen smelled of roasted chicken and garlic, a familiar, comforting aroma that usually promised warmth and laughter. Tonight, however, the table was set with an unspoken tension.
Amaya sat between Liam and her mother, her botany notebook tucked under her arm like a secret talisman. Her father was carving the chicken with his usual precision, glancing occasionally at the clock as if measuring her patience—or perhaps her ability to remain silent about her latest Aris-induced adventures.
"So," Liam began, deliberately loud enough for the entire family to hear, "how's my little sister surviving her boot camp with Dr. Aris? You memorized the human heart yet, or are you still confusing atriums and ventricles?"
Amaya groaned, stabbing at her mashed potatoes. "I am not little, and I know my anatomy! Stop exaggerating."
"I've got proof," Liam said, brandishing a sheet of her doodled diagrams. "You drew a heart so lopsided it looked like it was mid-heartbreak."
Amaya swatted his hand away, laughter spilling out despite herself. "That was artistic interpretation!"
Her father, oblivious, nodded approvingly at Liam. "It's good to see you two quarreling as usual. Builds character."
"Character? She's building character one red-ink disaster at a time," Liam said with a grin, sliding his plate slightly closer to her. "Honestly, I thought botany was the worst she could do. Then she tells me she's learning about the human heart and digestive tract. My dear sister, you're practically an overworked medical student already. And yet somehow, you still blush like a teenager every time… uh, never mind."
Amaya choked on her water, eyes narrowing. "Never mind? You're the worst!"
Liam leaned back in his chair, smirk fixed firmly in place. "I mean, you are studying like crazy, but I can read you like an open textbook. And trust me, you're more interested in the tutor than in mitochondria."
Amaya's fork froze halfway to her mouth. She gave Liam a glare that could have sliced steel. "Shut up, Liam. My… my interest is purely academic!"
"Sure, sure," he said, wagging a finger, "purely academic. That's why you squealed when he corrected your reflex arc today. Totally professional, notebook-approved enthusiasm."
Her mother, picking up on none of the subtext, said, "I'm glad you two are helping each other. Liam, maybe you should tutor her in physiology too. It seems she's… struggling."
"Struggling? I am not struggling!" Amaya protested, her cheeks heating as her father chuckled.
"You are not struggling," Liam agreed, a perfect blend of mock seriousness and teasing. "You are… passionately failing, and I am here to chronicle the decline for future generations."
Amaya groaned, stabbing her fork into her plate in defeat. "Why do you have to make everything so dramatic?"
"Because drama," Liam said sagely, "is genetic. Clearly, it skipped me, but you inherited the full package. Speaking of genetics…" His eyes flicked toward her notes tucked under the table. "Did Dr. Rowon explain the nerve pathways well today, or did you need a hands-on demonstration?"
Amaya glared but couldn't help the tiny laugh that escaped. "Liam!"
Her father, carving the chicken with surgical precision, looked up. "Are you two discussing your studies again? You should focus on your meals. Nutrition is as important as academics."
Amaya rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "Yeah, for someone who practically lives on caffeine and protein bars."
Liam, barely containing a grin, whispered back, "Caffeine helps the brain absorb information. Or at least that's what Aris says."
"Liam!" she hissed, elbowing him lightly under the table.
"Relax," he said innocently, pretending to inspect his plate. "I'm just giving you helpful context. You should always credit your sources."
Amaya glared at him, then felt a flutter of warmth—somewhere in her chest, she thought of Aris, imagining him observing her efforts, correcting her, guiding her with that precise, patient expertise that made her heart race. She shook her head quickly, as if shaking the thought out of her hair, but her grin betrayed her.
Her mother poured more wine into her father's glass, glancing at the two of them. "Liam, you're going to be a doctor one day. You really should be gentle with your sister. She's already under enough pressure with her college workload."
"I am gentle," Liam said, smirking. "Gentle in the same way a scalpel is gentle."
Amaya groaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands. "You are impossible."
"And she's adorable," Liam said, smirking through a mouthful of chicken. "Even when she's flailing over reflex arcs and plant taxonomy."
Amaya threw a napkin at him, but her laughter rang louder than her mock annoyance. "Stop! You're trying to humiliate me!"
"Not at all," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just documenting the full spectrum of sibling interaction. You'll thank me when you're a famous scientist someday."
Their father, finally noticing the laughter, frowned in mock suspicion. "Are you two conspiring again?"
"Conspiring?" Liam asked, eyes wide. "Just sharing important academic commentary. Nothing more."
Amaya rolled her eyes, secretly enjoying the banter. The teasing, the laughter—it made the heavy burden of her new lessons lighter.
"And your tutor," Liam added casually, taking a sip of water, "is surprisingly patient. For a psychiatrist, he's scary precise, though. Makes me feel like I need a full mental evaluation just by sitting at the table with him."
Amaya nearly choked, trying not to giggle. "He's… he's… just… strict!"
"Strict?" Liam said, eyebrows arching. "He's like a combination of a drill sergeant and a professor. I respect it. You're learning, and you're surviving it. That counts for something."
Amaya smiled faintly. "Surviving, yes… but I want to… do more than survive."
Liam leaned over, mock-serious again. "Do more than survive, huh? Good. That's the spirit. Just don't pass out in the middle of a digestive system lecture, or I swear I'll tell the whole family that you faint at the sight of bile ducts."
Amaya laughed, elbowing him gently. "You're impossible."
"And you're adorable," he said easily, ruffling her hair. "Now eat your dinner before it gets cold. You're going to need energy for tomorrow's heart and nerve pathways marathon."
As she chewed, she felt the warmth of the kitchen, the chaos of a loving family, and a secret thrill at her determination to impress Aris. To anyone else, she and her tutor were merely student and teacher, bound by anatomy and zoology. To her, every correction, every push, every "focus" from Aris was a personal challenge—and a secret spark she couldn't share with the family.
Liam, perceptive as always, glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "By the way," he said casually, "if you keep this up, Aris is going to think you're obsessed. Not that it matters. You've got the grades to back it up… eventually."
Amaya blushed fiercely, not meeting his gaze. "Shut up, Liam."
"You're welcome," he said, smirking triumphantly. "Dinner's over. Go review your notes. I'll make sure no one mentions any embarrassing 'heart-flutters' at the table next time."
Amaya groaned, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She had survived Liam's teasing, the parental dinner interrogation, and somehow managed to keep her secret safe. For now.
And tomorrow, her textbooks awaited—and Aris would be waiting, precise and exacting, to see if her determination could match his expectations.
The night settled over the Snow household, laughter lingering in the kitchen, the scent of garlic still in the air, and the promise of another challenging—and thrilling—day ahead.