Her Craving, His Brother

Then I exhaled softly and shook my head. I was overthinking. Caius probably already knew my routine or maybe I’d mentioned it earlier this morning and just forgot. Or—My lips curved slightly.Or maybe…It was a surprise. The thought settled into my chest a little too easily. It wouldn’t be the first time.Last year, on my birthday, I had been so sure nothing special was happening. Wren had acted completely normal the entire day—annoyingly normal. She even made me send her updates on where I was, when I was leaving, how far I was.I thought she was just being nosy. Only to get home and walk straight into a full-blown surprise party. Caius had been there, smiling like he had nothing to do with it while Wren took full credit as the “mastermind.”I smiled faintly at the memory.Maybe…Just maybe…This was the same thing. Maybe they were planning something for tonight. A surprise before the actual event, that would explain the message. The strange tone. The way he already knew.“Yeah…” I mu

Lumi’s POV The drive home felt… shorter. Or maybe it just felt that way because my mind wouldn’t settle. Clover was still talking beside me, something about how she was going to fix the dress in under ten minutes and how tonight I had no excuse not to look “unforgettable”—but her voice faded in and out, like I was only catching pieces of it. By the time I pulled into the driveway, the house stood exactly the way it always did. The lights were on. Nothing unusual. No signs of anything. Clover unbuckled her seatbelt first. “Well,” she said, glancing at the house, “this doesn’t look like a surprise.” I let out a small laugh, grabbing my bag. “Maybe it’s happening upstairs.” “Maybe,” she echoed, but her tone carried a hint of doubt. I opened the door and stepped out. The night air brushed lightly against my skin again, but it didn’t feel refreshing this time. Just… cold. We walked toward the house together. I unlocked the door, pushed it open and stepped inside. The house greeted

Lumi’s POV“What about him?” I ask, glancing sideways at Clover as I slow down at a traffic light.She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she leans closer, already unlocking her phone, her excitement practically vibrating off her.“You need to see this,” she says.That alone should’ve been my warning. Clover doesn’t just show things, she introduces chaos. Before I can protest, she angles her phone toward me. A video is playing. Dim lighting, loud music, a lounge setting. Then, men, dancing, not just dancing, performing. My brows pull together slightly as I try to focus without crashing the car.“Clover—”“Just look,” she insists, tapping the screen.I sigh and glance again, slower this time.Men in fitted black pants, open shirts, confident movements. Women seated, laughing, reaching, enjoying the attention.I blink.“…What am I looking for?”She lets out a dramatic gasp. “Excuse me? Art. You’re looking at art.”I huff a laugh despite myself.“I don’t recognize anyone,” I say.She