Jealous

Noelle decides to go to the bathroom in our room, and I silently follow him up the stairs, curiosity tugging at my heart. I settle on the bed, waiting for what feels like an eternity—an hour, to be exact. Growing concerned, I get up and quietly make my way to the bathroom, only to find him standing there, lost in thought.

"Okay," I say, breaking the silence as I approach him. Without hesitation, I scoop him up into my arms. He fits against me perfectly, a weight I cherish, and I carry him back into the room, where I settle into the rocking chair by the window. The sun begins its descent, casting a warm golden glow around us as we rock gently, enveloped in a comfortable silence.

After a long moment, Noelle finally breaks the quiet. "I'm jealous," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. I'm startled by his admission—jealous?

"What? Why? Of whom?" I ask, genuinely confused by the sudden shift in the conversation.