The dining hall was a masterpiece of opulence—a long mahogany table stretched across the room, adorned with gleaming silverware, crystal glasses, and candelabras casting a warm glow. The scent of gourmet dishes wafted through the air, prepared meticulously by the estate's renowned chefs. The ambiance was serene, almost too perfect, like the calm before a storm.
I took my seat, feeling the plush velvet cushion beneath me, and glanced around. Adam sat across from me, his posture rigid, eyes darting towards the entrance every few seconds. The tension in his shoulders was palpable.
**"You okay?"** I asked, trying to break the silence.
He offered a tight-lipped smile. **"Yeah, just... anticipating."**
Before I could probe further, the grand doors swung open with a dramatic flair. Marcus entered, exuding confidence, dressed in a tailored suit that screamed luxury. His hair was slicked back, and that ever-present smirk played on his lips.
**"Evening, family,"** he drawled, taking a seat beside me without waiting for an invitation.
Adam's jaw clenched. **"You're late."**
Marcus shrugged, pouring himself a glass of wine. **"Fashionably."**
**"So,"** I interjected, aiming for a neutral tone, **"Marcus, what brings you back?"**
He sipped his wine, eyes twinkling. **"Missed the familial warmth. And the food."**
Adam scoffed. **"You never cared for either."**
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Marcus leaned in, his voice low. **"Careful, baby brother. Stress isn't good for your complexion."**
I stifled a chuckle, earning a glare from Adam. The meal proceeded with forced politeness, the clinking of cutlery the only consistent sound.
Suddenly, Marcus turned to me. **"Rhea, did you enjoy the book you borrowed?"**
I blinked, surprised. **"Yes, how did you—"**
He winked. **"I have my ways."**
Adam slammed his fork down. **"Enough with the games, Marcus."**
Marcus feigned innocence. *"Games? I'm merely engaging in dinner conversation."*
The atmosphere grew colder, the earlier warmth dissipating. I felt like a pawn between two kings in a silent war.
As dessert was served, Marcus leaned closer, his voice a whisper. **"You should be careful, Rhea. Not everyone in this house is who they seem."**
A shiver ran down my spine. Before I could respond, he stood up, raising his glass. **"To family reunions."**
He exited as dramatically as he had entered, leaving a trail of tension and unanswered questions.
Adam sighed, rubbing his temples. **"This is just the beginning."**
I nodded, the unease settling in. Dinner had unveiled more than just culinary delights—it had exposed cracks in the facade, secrets lurking beneath the surface.
\
The moonlight spilled into my room like liquid silver, dancing softly on the wooden floor. I had just finished brushing my hair when a gentle knock echoed from my door. Before I could even say "come in", the door creaked open.
Adam.
He leaned against the frame casually, wearing a loose black hoodie and sweatpants, the soft kind that made him look more boy than dangerous. His hair was a mess like he'd been running his fingers through it too many times, and his eyes—those stormy eyes—were softer tonight.
"You're still awake?" he asked, stepping inside without waiting for permission.
"No, I'm sleep-talking," I said, plopping down on the bed dramatically.
He rolled his eyes. "Wow. So original. Ever thought of becoming a stand-up comic?"
"Only if you agree to be the punchline."
He grinned, and I swear for a moment, the tension between us just... melted.
He sat at the edge of my bed, not too close, not too far. Just enough that I could feel his warmth, even though we weren't touching.
"So," he started, gaze fixed on the floor, "in a month, something important will happen."
I blinked. "That's specific. Is it my Hogwarts letter?"
He chuckled, surprisingly. "No. Your next ability will unlock. The one that will change everything."
"Why do I feel like you say that every week?"
He looked at me, seriously this time. "Because I mean it. This one is different. But there's a condition."
I leaned forward, curiosity rising in my chest. "What kind of condition?"
"You'll have to... feel pain." He looked guilty, as if the words tasted sour coming out.
I blinked, taken aback. "Like heartbreak pain or stub-my-toe pain?"
"No, like real pain. Emotional. Physical. You'll need to want the truth badly enough to go through it."
My breath caught. Something about his tone made me feel like he'd been through that pain himself. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"So... what happens if I agree?" I asked softly.
Adam exhaled. "Then tomorrow, if you're willing, we'll test it. You'll try to read Marcus's mind."
I tilted my head. "Why his mind?"
He looked into my eyes, dead serious. "Because no one—not even I—can read Marcus. But if you can..." He trailed off.
"Then I might be the only one who can stop him," I finished, voice trembling slightly.
He nodded.
There was a long pause.
And then—suddenly, unexpectedly—he smiled. "You're braver than I thought, Rhea."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you flirting with me or just sleep-deprived?"
"Definitely sleep-deprived," he said, but there was a softness in his gaze, something that wasn't there before.
"I'm not brave, by the way. I'm just nosy. Very, very nosy."
"You're not just nosy," he said, voice low. **"You're... everything."
My heart skipped. Like actually skipped.
We looked at each other. For a little too long.
And then, as if the moment had broken through the walls we both built around ourselves, he reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from my face.
His fingers grazed my cheek.
It was the softest touch in the world.
But it sent a bolt of electricity down my spine. I shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the tingly warmth rushing over me.
He noticed.
And he smirked. "You're blushing."
"No, I'm not," I lied. Badly.
"You totally are," he teased, moving a little closer, that stupidly gorgeous smirk plastered on his face.
"It's hot in here," I said, flailing. "You should go. You're ruining my room's vibe."
He laughed—actually laughed—and fell back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.
"You really are fun to mess with."
"That makes one of us."
We stayed like that for a while. Me sitting at the edge, him lying across the bed, arms crossed behind his head.
"You know, when you're not being a total jerk, you're actually kinda... tolerable," I muttered.
"Wow," he said dramatically. "From 'I'll kill you in your sleep' to 'tolerable'—we're really growing here."
I chuckled. "Don't get used to it."
Then, in a much softer voice, I added, "Thanks for telling me the truth. About the power. About Marcus."
He turned his head toward me, his face unreadable.
"You deserve to know, Rhea. And... I don't want you getting hurt. Even if I act like a jackass sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Okay, always."
There was a pause again. This time, a comfortable one.
Then he said, almost like a whisper, "Goodnight, troublemaker."
He stood up slowly, fingers brushing mine ever so slightly as he passed me.
And again—tingles.
Butterflies.
Tiny explosions.
My entire stomach was hosting a rock concert and the headliner was Adam's Touch™.
I watched him walk out, closing the door quietly behind him.
And then I sat there in silence, heart beating a little too fast, lips slightly parted.
Did he just—?
Was that... a moment?
No. Absolutely not.
But also...
Maybe?