"Gwen," Adam called softly from the kitchen doorway, his sleeves rolled up and a faint scent of garlic clinging to his shirt. "If you want to join me, I'm making dinner. Your favorite. I'll cook."
She didn't answer.
He stepped into the living room and found her lying on the couch, legs curled up, eyes glued to her phone like she hadn't heard him.
"Gwen," he tried again, gentler this time. "Come on. At least sit with me while I burn the pasta."
That earned a flicker of amusement in her eyes, but she didn't look up. Just scrolled.
Adam sighed and crossed the room, sitting beside her carefully, as if afraid she might bolt. "Look, I know you're still upset with me. But you can be mad at me for a lifetime and it won't change the fact that I'll always be your brother. I miss talking to you."
Gwen exhaled, slow and quiet. "I'm not hungry, Adam."
"You haven't eaten anything all day."
"And whose fault is that?" she muttered, still not meeting his gaze.
Adam fell quiet.
