Two Hearts

The Dinner

Laura's POV

When Daniel disappeared upstairs, I remained standing in the kitchen for several seconds, staring at the doorway.

Waiting.

Half convinced he would walk back down five minutes later and leave anyway. Because that was what he always did.

I continued preparing dinner while constantly listening for footsteps. Part of me expected to hear the front door open and close at any moment.

The minutes passed.

I set the table and then paused. Should I put out a fourth plate?

Every previous time I'd done it, he'd left. Lately, I'd stopped setting one altogether. Deep down, I'd already accepted that Daniel never stayed.

But his words had completely thrown me off balance.

I'll have dinner.

I still wasn't entirely convinced I'd heard him correctly. Nevertheless, I set out a fourth plate.

Just in case.

Ellie and Markus had already taken their usual seats at the table. As always, they were arguing about something completely insignificant. Ellie was trying to prove she was right. Markus refused to surrender.

Business as usual.

When Daniel returned twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in casual clothes, I nearly dropped the serving spoon.

He had actually come back.

I honestly had no idea what to do with that information. A part of me still expected him to change his mind. To look at the table. At me. At the children. And decide it was all too much.

Instead, he sat down. Actually sat down.

The comments from Ellie and Markus nearly gave me a heart attack. Every time one of them opened their mouths, I was convinced Daniel would stand up and walk away.

But he didn't.

He looked uncomfortable. Not annoyed. Not angry. Uncomfortable.

As if he genuinely didn't know what people were supposed to talk about around a dinner table. As if he hadn't done this in years.

Maybe he hadn't.

That thought surprised me more than it should have.

Dinner started awkwardly. Painfully awkwardly.

I kept waiting for something to go wrong. For Daniel to get irritated. For Markus to ask the wrong question. For Ellie to say something inappropriate. For someone to storm away from the table.

But none of it happened.

The conversation somehow found its own rhythm. Ellie complained about her art classes. Markus talked about football practice.

I asked about school. The children bickered. Laughed. Interrupted each other. Exactly like they always did.

And for the first time since moving into this house, Daniel was there to witness it. Every now and then, I caught myself watching him. Trying to understand what was going on inside his head.

Because despite barely speaking, he was listening.

Really listening.

Not pretending. Not waiting for his turn to talk. Listening.

His eyes followed every conversation. Every complaint. Every joke. Every story. As though he was quietly collecting information. Trying to understand who these children were.

Then came the moment that caught me completely off guard.

"Wait... you play football?" Daniel's question made the entire table go silent.

Including me.

It wasn't the question itself. It was the fact that he had asked one at all.

I looked at him. Then at Markus. Then back at Daniel.

For a moment, Markus looked just as surprised as I felt. Almost suspicious. Like he wasn't entirely sure the question was real.

But then he answered. And Daniel listened. Actually listened. No phone. No distractions. No impatience. Just attention.

It wasn't much.

But somehow it felt important.

Dinner ended more peacefully than I ever could have imagined.

No arguments. No tension. No one leaving halfway through. No disasters.

Just dinner.

A normal dinner. Something so ordinary it almost felt extraordinary.

Then Ellie stood from her chair. And changed everything.

"Thank you for staying, Daniel." The room fell silent.

I wasn't looking at my daughter. I was looking at him.

Daniel froze.

Completely froze.

As if nobody had ever thanked him for something so small before. Or maybe because nobody had thanked him for anything in a very long time.

For several seconds, he didn't know what to say.

And strangely enough, neither did I.

When the children disappeared upstairs, the house became quiet again.

Just me and him.

Neither of us seemed to know what came next.

Eventually, Daniel stood. I thought he would leave without saying anything. Instead, he hesitated. As though he wanted to speak. Wanted to ask something. Wanted to continue the conversation. But couldn't quite figure out how.

Then he turned toward the stairs.

"Good night." I said.

It was such a simple thing.

Such a normal thing. Yet somehow it felt significant.

"Good night," he answered.

And he disappeared upstairs.

The moment I heard his bedroom door close, I leaned both hands against the kitchen counter.

And exhaled.

Slowly.

I hadn't realized how tense I'd been all evening.

My eyes suddenly burned. To my own embarrassment, I felt like crying. Not because anything bad had happened. Because for the first time since moving into this house...

Something good had.

The Next Morning

The following morning, I woke up still thinking about dinner. About Ellie. About Daniel. About the way he'd looked when she thanked him.

None of it made sense.

Daniel was a contradiction. A cold businessman who could freeze a room with a single look. Yet the man I'd seen at dinner wasn't entirely that person.

His face had softened when he listened to the children. He had smiled. Several times. Small smiles. Barely noticeable.

But real.

Maybe that was the real Daniel. Or maybe it was simply the version of him that existed before life taught him to hide it.

I didn't know.

Maybe one day I would. Or maybe I never would.

Still lost in thought, I grabbed my robe and headed downstairs. Since it was Saturday, I expected the house to be empty. Or at the very least, Daniel to be gone already.

That seemed far more likely.

But the moment I stepped into the kitchen, I heard the coffee machine running.

I froze.

Daniel stood by the kitchen island holding a mug of coffee. For a second I genuinely wondered if I was still half asleep. Because Daniel being home on a Saturday morning felt less believable than most dreams.

"Coffee?" he asked. As if this was completely normal. As if we shared Saturday mornings all the time. As if he hadn't spent the last week avoiding me.

"Yes," I answered automatically.

I stepped toward the coffee machine. Before I could reach it, Daniel moved first. He placed a mug underneath and pressed the button.

I stopped.

For some reason, that tiny gesture caught me completely off guard. The machine hummed quietly between us.

Neither of us spoke.

When the coffee was ready, Daniel picked up the mug and handed it to me.

Our fingers brushed. Just for a second. Nothing happened. Neither of us reacted.

Yet suddenly the kitchen felt strangely quiet.

Almost awkward.

As if we had both become aware of something neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug. Daniel looked like he was about to say something.

And then—

A car pulled into the driveway. Both of us turned toward the window.

Daniel frowned.

"That's strange." He glanced toward the front of the house. "No one ever comes here this early."

Then he looked at me.

"Are you expecting someone?"

I stared at him. What kind of question was that?

Since moving here, nobody had visited except Eric. And Daniel himself barely counted.

"No." The answer came out sharper than intended.

Something flickered across his face.

Before either of us could say another word, the front door opened. A moment later, Eric appeared in the kitchen.

Without warning. Without calling first. Without his usual relaxed smile. Something was wrong. I knew it immediately.

Even Daniel straightened.

"Father?"

Eric looked between us. For a brief second, his eyes landed on the coffee mugs. Then something that looked suspiciously like relief crossed his face. Unfortunately, it didn't last.

"I have good news and bad news."

Neither of us spoke.

A second passed.

Then another.

Eric sighed.

"Actually..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think it's only bad news."

Now I definitely didn't like where this was going.

"What happened?" Daniel asked.

"My mother called."

Silence.

I felt my stomach tighten immediately.

Eric took a breath.

"She's arriving sooner than expected."

"How much sooner?" Daniel asked.

"Two weeks."

I froze.

Two weeks? Two? Not a month. Not several weeks.

Two.

Beside me, Daniel's expression darkened immediately. But I knew him well enough by now to recognize that it wasn't anger. It was panic. The same panic I felt.

"Fine," Daniel said after a moment.

"What's the bad part?"

Eric looked almost uncomfortable. Which somehow made everything worse. Then he dropped the bomb.

"She's staying here."

Silence.

Complete silence.

I stared at Eric. Surely I had misunderstood.

"Excuse me?"

"She wants to spend time with family."

Daniel laughed. A short, humorless laugh.

"No."

"I'm serious."

"No."

"Daniel—"

"No."

I had never heard him sound so alarmed. Neither had Erik.

Unfortunately, neither of them noticed that I wasn't breathing either. Because my mind had already jumped ahead.

Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Every day. Living together. Pretending twenty-four hours a day. No breaks. No escaping. No time to recover. No chance to hide.

My gaze slowly shifted toward Daniel. At the exact same moment, he looked at me.

For the first time since this entire ridiculous arrangement had begun... we were thinking exactly the same thing.

We are completely screwed.