The house felt too warm. Too quiet. Too close.
I sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through my phone, but my eyes kept finding Lucian. My brother.
Every glance at him made my chest tighten and my stomach twist. This is wrong. This is so wrong. I repeated it over and over in my head, but it didn't help.
Lucian stood by the kitchen counter, holding a cup of tea. The light hit his face perfectly, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the softness in his eyes. I felt that familiar ache coil in my chest.
"Do you want some tea?" he asked, his voice calm and soft.
I nodded. "Yeah…"
When our hands brushed as I took the cup, fire ran through me. I yanked my hand back, heat rushing to my cheeks.
He noticed immediately. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, stepping closer.
No. I wasn't okay. Guilt pressed on me like a heavy weight.
Why am I looking at him like this? Why can't it stop? This is wrong. So wrong.
I tried to look away, tried to focus on my phone, but I couldn't. My eyes kept finding him. I froze, staring at Lucian in a way I shouldn't — longing, fearful, guilty all at once.
He stepped closer. I could feel the warmth radiating from him. My hands shook. My chest tightened.
"You look like something's on your mind," Lucian whispered.
And that was it. My gaze lingered too long. Too soft. Too desperate. Too wrong.
In my head, the truth screamed over and over: It's him… it's Lucian… it's Lucian…
But I couldn't say anything. I was trapped, caught between guilt and feelings I never wanted to feel.
He watched me, waiting. And I just sat there, eyes locked on his, drowning in regret.