Bound by Family, Haunted by the Past

After that unexpected encounter with my ex-enemy—the one who made my high school hell—was now officially my stepbrother. I escaped to my new room, trying to shake off the flood of emotions and memories he’d triggered. I threw myself into unpacking, hoping that arranging my things would help me ignore that smug face and the bitter memories he stirred up. High school was behind me, but seeing him here now felt like the universe was playing a twisted joke. If I had to live here, the least I could do was try to maintain a peaceful bond. Maybe time and distance would help us forget the past.

Before I knew it, the hours slipped by as I lost myself in organizing, and before I knew it, the sky had turned dusky. Just then, a knock at my door interrupted me. Someone was calling me downstairs for snacks, and the mention of food made me realize how hungry I was. The realization hit me—I hadn’t eaten since breakfast! All those memories of him had left me too distracted to even think about lunch.

I took a few minutes to freshen up before heading to the hall, where I found Dad on the phone, talking in his deep, businesslike voice, and Mom was cozied up in her chair, tapping away on her laptop. She was in her zone, working on her next novel. I admired her dedication her passion for her work; despite being a well-known author with countless fans, she always remained so grounded. Just watching her, I felt a warmth and pride in knowing she was my mom.

But before I could slip into the comforting atmosphere, My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by none other than Mister Devil himself I felt his presence even before I saw him, that unsettling mix of charm and mischief he seemed to carry with him everywhere.I whipped around, only to find him way too close, one hand on my shoulder, the other stuffed casually in his pocket, his trademark grin in place. “Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” he said.

I tensed and instinctively stepped back, his touch bringing back the sting of memories I thought I’d left behind. This was the same guy who’d twisted my wrist in high school, forcing me to clean the classroom on his day, just because he had a football match. His grip had left bruises , his fingers leaving red marks as he forced me to do his dirty work. He’d been cruel, manipulative, and heartless. And now? Now, he was calling me sweetheart like we were some long-lost friends.

But before I could slip away, he leaned in close, whispering near my ear, “You really do have a habit of zoning out, sweetheart.” Startled, I realized he was now way too close, his face inches from mine. His presence felt overwhelming, unsettling in ways I hadn’t expected. I took another step back, but he pulled me close by the waist, grinning. “Your stomach’s growling like a lion,” he whispered with a smirk.

Embarrassed, I shoved him away and rushed over to Mom, who was still immersed in her writing. My heart was racing, and I tried to calm the strange flutter in my stomach. His touch had left me rattled—not in anger, but with something new and confusing, a feeling I was both surprised and hesitant to explore.

He walked over with that signature grin, a spark of mischief lighting up his expression, his gaze focused directly on me. Without breaking eye contact, he plopped down on the couch across from us, then casually turned to my mom. “Hey, Mom! Everything good? How’s the story going?”

Mom’s face lit up as she started telling him about her latest storyline, the characters she was developing, and the twists she was planning. I tried to tune into the conversation, focusing on her words. It was nice hearing her talk so passionately about her work, something she loved so much. But then, out of nowhere, he asked, “So, any kissing scenes you’re planning to add in the next chapters?”

My head snapped in his direction, completely thrown off by the question. I raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge if he was joking or just being plain nosy. But before I could make sense of it, I noticed he wasn’t looking at Mom anymore. His gaze had shifted back to me, an intensity there that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. His eyes held mine with a look I couldn’t quite read—desire, maybe, or some kind of challenge.

In that moment, I found myself lost in his stare, forgetting for a second where I was or who I was talking to. It was as if the rest of the room faded, and I was just… stuck in his gaze.