Chapter 24

As I sit here, pen in hand, I can't help but reflect on the tangled mess that has become our lives—the lives of me and the twins, Christian and Haiden. The leaves started turning gold and the air turned crisp with October's chill, things grew increasingly complicated.

Halloween was approaching, and I was expecting the usual revelry—ghosts, ghouls, and plenty of candy. Instead, I found myself caught in the crossfire of a sibling rivalry I was pretty sure would tear us apart rather than bring us together. Me and Haiden had talked the other day about all the tension and I guess Christian saw us because he was pissed when we returned home that day.

Which led to Christian and Haiden not speaking to each other in weeks, each stubbornly holding on to whatever nonsense feud had sparked the silence. Meanwhile, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife—a ridiculous notion for the start of fall festivities.

So, as any good friend would do, I hatched a plan. Maybe it was a little drastic, but sometimes drastic times called for drastic measures. I decided to lock the twins—yes, literally lock them—in a room together until they worked out their differences. My logic was simple: three hours of forced conversation had to be better than a lifetime of awkwardness.

With a mix of excitement and dread, I secured the door and prepared to listen through the thin walls. Almost immediately, muffled voices erupted. I held my breath, half hoping for the sound of laughter but bracing myself for what sounded like a full-fledged argument.

"Both of you are such idiots!" I yelled gently, hoping to temper their tensions. But thick walls, it turned out, do a great job of absorbing sound. What I heard instead was a bewildering blend of raised voices, accusations, and the unmistakable sound of something—was that a chair, or maybe a pillow?—being flung.

The minutes crawled, but I managed to keep myself occupied. I made popcorn, paced the floor, and tried to drown out their quarrel with Halloween music—unsuccessfully, I might add. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I couldn't take it any longer and opened the door.

The twins emerged, dusting off their clothes and wearing smirks that absolutely didn't belong on their faces. Their eyes sparkled with mischief, and I was suddenly terrified of what they might propose.

"What happened in there?" I demanded, half-expecting them to deny everything and blame it all on me.

Haiden leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Let's just say we've had a breakthrough."

Christian nodded, looking too pleased with himself. "We came up with an idea. A brilliant idea."

"That doesn't bode well," I muttered, preparing myself for anything.

Their grinning faces told me I was in for a whirlwind.

"And what would that be?" I asked cautiously.

Both twins stepped closer, their energy palpable—a synergy that was both fascinating and daunting. "We should enter into a three-way relationship," Christian declared, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

A pause settled in the air as I processed their words. My stomach knotted uncomfortably. "I-I don't know, guys. That sounds… unconventional."

"Wait, it's not as weird as it sounds," Haiden insisted, raking a hand through his hair. "We're practically family. Our only connection is our mom. Think about it: it's not like we share DNA with both dads."

I blinked, feeling the weight of their logic. "But… that's still…" My voice trailed off, the situation sinking in. "What would people think?"

"Honestly?" Christian shrugged. "Who cares? This is about us, not anyone else. We all like each other, we have fun together, and you know that neither of us could stand losing you."

His words hit me. The twins fought like cats and dogs, but in their own respective ways, they were loyal. They had both made that clear. But a three-way relationship? It felt both thrilling and terrifying, a mix of candy and razor blades.

As I glanced at them, a strange thought crossed my mind. This was Halloween—a night when the boundaries blur, and everything feels a little more magical, a little less conventional. What if they were right? What if what we had could forge something entirely new?

"Okay," I said slowly, "but if we're doing this, communication is key. And I mean effective communication. We have to be transparent."

They both nodded, excitement lighting up their eyes. Maybe it wasn't so taboo after all. Maybe it was simply us carving out our own path—celebrating the bonds we had, however complicated they might be.

As we began to laugh and joke about the rules for our newfound arrangement, the tension of the past few weeks dissipated like fog in the morning sun. Our lives became intertwined in ways I never envisioned, but this Halloween, I felt something strange—a sense of freedom, of rebirth.

As dusk fell, we set out into the world, a new trio forged from shared experience, Halloween lights twinkling around us, promising all sorts of adventures—and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of magic.