Chapter 82: The Sibling Rivalry

The gala was exhausting. By the time we returned to the estate, my feet ached and my head was spinning from the endless polite lies I’d had to tell. I just wanted to disappear into the library, find a quiet corner, and exist without being watched.

I didn’t even have my coat off before I saw them. Ivan and Ilya were already in the common room. Usually, they moved like two halves of the same person—quiet, synchronized, and unsettling. But tonight, the air felt different.

"You look like you're about to collapse, Leo," Ilya said, stepping forward first. He reached out, his fingers brushing the sleeve of my jacket. "Let me take that for you."

Before I could answer, Ivan was on my other side. "I’ve already asked the kitchen to bring up that tea you like. The one with the honey."

I looked between them, confused. "Thanks. Both of you. It was just a long night."

I walked toward the large velvet sofa, intending to sit in the middle. But as I moved, Ilya took the spot to my left, and Ivan immediately occupied the right. I was sandwiched between them. Normally, this felt like being protected. Tonight, it felt like being claimed.

"Ilya was saying the gala was a waste of time," Ivan said, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of a challenge. "But I told him you handled the investors perfectly. You were the star of the room."

Ilya let out a short, dry laugh. "Being a 'star' is tiring, Ivan. Leo doesn't need praise right now. He needs peace. I was thinking we could go over those sketches you were working on earlier? The ones you said were missing something."

I turned to Ilya. "Oh, the charcoal ones? I did want to show you—"

"Actually," Ivan interrupted, his hand moving to the back of the sofa behind my neck. "I found that book you were looking for. The first edition history of the coastal ruins. I have it in my study. I thought we could look at it tonight. Just us."

The silence that followed was heavy. I felt the muscles in my back go rigid. They weren't looking at me anymore; they were looking at each other over my head.

What is happening? I wondered. They never step on each other's toes. Not like this.

"The book can wait until morning," Ilya said, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned closer to me, his shoulder pressing against mine. "Leo is too tired to read fine print, aren't you, Leo? A quiet conversation is better."

"A quiet conversation about what, Ilya?" Ivan asked. "Your latest training drills? How exciting for him."

"It’s better than listening to you drone on about 'legacy' and 'duty' all night," Ilya snapped back.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Hey, guys? I’m right here. You don't have to talk about me like I’m a prize in a window."

Both of them froze. They looked down at me at the same time, their expressions softening, but the competitive spark didn't entirely vanish.

"We aren't," Ivan said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "I just want to make sure you're taken care of."

"And I want to make sure you aren't being smothered," Ilya added, giving Ivan a pointed look.

I sighed, leaning my head back. "I appreciate it. I really do. But you're acting... strange. You usually agree on everything. It’s like you’re trying to outdo each other."

Ilya reached out and took my hand, tracing the lines on my palm with his thumb. "Maybe we’re just realizing that sharing isn't as easy as it used to be."

My heart skipped a beat. "Sharing what?"

"Time," Ivan said quickly, though his eyes said something else. He reached for my other hand, so now both of my arms were being held. "We want your time, Leo. And lately, it feels like there isn't enough of it to go around."

I looked at Ivan, remembering the kiss in the car. Then I looked at Ilya, seeing the quiet hunger in his eyes that usually stayed hidden behind his brother's shadow. They were cracking. The perfect unity they had built their lives on was showing seams.

"I’m not a cake," I said, trying to keep my voice light despite the drumming in my chest. "You can't just cut me into pieces."

"No," Ilya whispered, leaning his forehead against my shoulder. "But I’m tired of being the one who waits his turn."

Ivan’s grip on my other hand tightened. "And I’m tired of pretending I don't mind when you walk away with him."

I felt a wave of guilt and heat wash over me. I loved them both, but in different ways that I couldn't even explain to myself yet. Seeing them like this—human, jealous, and frustrated—made them feel more real than they ever had before. They weren't the "untouchable twins" right now. They were just two men who wanted to be seen by the person they cared about.

"I’m going to go get that tea," I said, gently pulling my hands away. I needed to breathe. "And when I come back, we’re all going to sit here. No books. No sketches. Just us. Together. Like we’re supposed to be."

I stood up and walked toward the door. I could feel their eyes on my back, watching every step I took.

They’re breaking apart, I thought as I reached the hallway. And I’m the one holding the hammer.

The thought terrified me, but as I looked at my shaking hands, I realized something else. I didn't want them to be perfect anymore. I wanted them to be exactly like this—raw and honest—even if it meant everything was about

to get a lot more complicated.