All Chapters of My Enemy [BL]: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The next afternoon, boredom hit me hard. I mean, how many times could I stare at the same cabin walls before my brain just turned to mush? Rowan was probably up in his room, coming up with new ways to be annoying, so I grabbed my phone, slipped on a sweater, and decided to explore the grounds before I lost my mind completely.The woods behind the cabin were breathtaking. The air felt fresh and cool, and sunlight broke through the trees in golden beams that danced on the mossy ground. The earth smelled amazing, like pine, wet leaves, and dirt. With each step, my boots crunched softly against the ground.I snapped pictures along the way—mostly of little things, like wildflowers pushing up through the grass, mushrooms on fallen logs, and a squirrel perched on a branch, looking utterly offended by my presence.Each click of my phone felt like a tiny effort to capture the peace around me, so I could share it with Millie later. She’d probably think a place like this only existed on Pinteres

When I finally stirred awake, it was almost noon. The gray light filtering through my curtains mirrored the dull ache in my arm. It felt like my whole body had been run over—by a truck or maybe just by yesterday. Every muscle screamed in protest as I pushed myself up from bed. Memories of the game and the fight rushed back like an unwelcome movie replay. I remembered Frank walking me home, at least to Ridge Street... Mom and Roderick were out that evening, and I slipped into bed, hoping to sleep reality away.The house was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of footsteps in the hallway. Then there was a soft knock, and Mom peeked her head in, holding a tray. "You’re awake," she said, her voice softening with relief. "Good. I brought you some tea and toast. You need to eat something.""Mom, I’m fine," I replied, even though the sight of that warm mug reminded me I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.She came in anyway, placing the tray on my nightstand an

I honestly can’t believe how I ended up arguing with him like that—where that burst of courage even came from. My voice was shaking the whole time, but somehow, I didn’t back down. Maybe it was just that I was fed up with him acting like everyone was below him. Or maybe I just wanted him to realize how much pain he was causing.I pressed my hand against my chest, exhaling shakily, still feeling the weight of his glare.Third Person’s POVDownstairs, the tension hung heavy even after Rowan’s door slammed shut. Rita was standing in the living room, twisting the hem of her blouse, worry written all over her face. The sound of raised voices still seemed to vibrate in the walls, sharp and weary.Roderick sat on the edge of the couch, jaw tight, eyes locked on the dark staircase, looking like a man trying not to lose his patience."This isn’t working," he finally muttered, his voice heavy with fatigue. "They’re getting worse."

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes dropped to the table, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if the condensation had suddenly captivated him. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable, until he finally sighed...a soft, weary sound that seemed to come from deep within."Atlas," he said, his voice gentle yet firm, "I texted you because I wanted to see you. That’s it. I just wanted to be near you tonight, not... dive into this."I frowned, studying him closely. "But Frank—"Before I could finish, he shook his head, that same tired smile tugging at his lips. "I’m okay, seriously. You don’t have to worry so much, alright? I promise, it looks worse than it is."His tone was light, almost playful, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. I could tell he didn’t want to talk. Not that he couldn’t, but because something about it hurt.I sighed softly, a mix of frustration and concern swirling in my chest. "You always

Breakfast the next morning felt as gloomy as a funeral. No one was really talking. The only sounds filling the dining room were the soft clinks of silverware on plates and the low hum of the morning news playing in the living room.Roderick was sitting at the head of the table, pretending to concentrate on his food, but I could see how tense his jaw was and how he kept avoiding looking at Rowan. Mom kept glancing between us, her face anxious—like she was silently pleading for someone to break the silence.I pushed my scrambled eggs around my plate, completely losing my appetite. My phone lay facedown next to my water glass, and I didn’t even need to check it to know there were still no new messages. No word from Frank. Not a single text since the night before.I told myself he just needed some time to cool off. But there was this nagging, bitter voice in my head suggesting that maybe he didn’t want to talk to me at all anymore.Maybe he didn’t lov