Chapter 124: Communication Can Fix Anything... Except This
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Third Person’s POV
Helen stood at the bottom of the stairs long after Noah had shut his door upstairs. The sound of it was pretty subtle, not dramatic at all, but it still cut through her. She pressed her hand against her chest, brows furrowing in confusion as she tried to figure out what had just happened in the foyer when the teens had walked in.
Just a little while ago, she was looking forward to hearing about their day, hoping to find another sign that Clearwater hadn’t just been a one-off. But instead, Noah had marched past her, barely giving a glance, his expression harsh and her eyes glistening with what looked way too much like anger, which was an unfamiliar look on Noah who was known to be calm.
Helen swallowed hard and turned to Adrien.
He hadn’t moved an inch from his spot by the door, his shoulders tense under his dark jacket. When her eyes met his, he looked away quickly, almost like he couldn’t bear to face her.
"Adrien," Helen said quietly, stepping closer. "What happened? You both seemed fine this morning."
He didn’t respond. His jaw was clenched, and without saying a word, he strode past her toward the kitchen. For a moment, she debated whether to give him space or to follow him, afraid that that if she tried so hard to be a mother figure to Adrien, would only push him further away.
She chose to follow.
The kitchen lights were warm, casting a buttery glow over the marble countertop. Adrien yanked open the fridge harder than necessary and grabbed a bottle of orange juice. His movements were stiff and methodical as he popped off the cap and poured himself a glass, the juice sloshing near the top.
Helen stayed a few steps back, not wanting to crowd him but not ready to let him drift away in silence.
"Adrien..." she tried again, her voice soft and gentle, like she was approaching a frightened animal. "Please talk to me. I don’t want to jump to conclusions."