09 | DON'T KILL, WE ARE TOO YOUNG

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Iris

"Here's your sandwich and orange juice." Mom gives me my breakfast. I look at it, happily devouring it. Mom sits across me, taking one of the sandwiches, and eats it.

"This is good," We both say, simultaneously, and a second later, laugh together.

After yesterday, I am dead sure about the fact that Noah and Dad have become the best of friends since the whole night he was here, they were inseparable. When Mom came home, after an hour and a minute and seven seconds, she gave them a look for eight seconds before sighing, with a smile and started chatting with the gang.

"Good morning, beautiful... and hungry women in my life," Dad says, entering the room as he kisses me on my forehead and goes towards Mom, kissing her on her cheek.

"Morning," I say, smiling.

"Morning, Honey," Mom says, grinning at him. Dad smiles at her, lovingly, before sitting beside her.

"So, Iry—" Mom starts to say, finally looking at me.

"Is something wrong? Am I in trouble?" I ask her, quickly.

"No, why would you think that?" She gives me a weird expression.

"You call me Iry when you want to mock me or something..." I shrug. Dad chuckles, agreeing with me.

Mom sighs and looks at me. "Any-hoo, we have to tell you something—"

"No." I gasp and both of them look at me, confused. "You—you are not pregnant, are you?"

"What?" Dad looks at Mom, questioningly. "I am sure I used—"

"Oh, my ears—I am not hearing what you both do alone together." I put my palms over my ears, shaking my head. "But, look, I am not going to judge you for that—I am just surprised that's all—I don't mind having another sibling—I swear to love the baby—"

I stop as I hear Mom laughing. She shakes her head and says to me, "Stop overthinking, Iris Cooper."

"Wait, so..."

"No, I am not pregnant," She answers, smiling. "I think I would know if I was but no, I am not."

"So, it didn't." Dad sighs in relief.

"what didn't?" I ask him, confused.

Dad narrows his eyes at me and says, "For a smart person, you are weirdly too innocent."

"I am not innocent, Dad," I state.

"And hell is just a sauna." He snorts.

"Don't go and quote my fav—"

"Alright," Mom gives us a look to stop and we do. She sighs and looks at me, seriously, which me nervous. "Your Dad and I are going to London this Sunday."

A small silence between us stretches for a second.

"Grandpa's...?" I ask, looking down at my plate.

"Yeah," Mom nods and holds my hand.

"I know, kiddo, you aren't ready yet," Dad says, assuring me. "Don't worry, take your time."

"I rather stay here," I mumble. I haven't gone to London, since Grandpa's funeral and I haven't visited the grave too. I don't think I can gather myself enough to go there.

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