Breakfast at the estate was its usual storm of noise — Orion and Cassian arguing over who cheated in last night's game, Aiden talking about training schedules, Serene trying to keep the peace, and Lyra sitting quietly, watching everything with those sharp, observant eyes of hers.
Amara sat between Serene and the empty chair at the end of the row, trying to look normal. Trying not to think about the way Adrian kissed her before sunrise. Trying not to replay it. Trying not to blush.
Then Adrian walked in.
He took his seat directly across from her, calm as ever, with Aiden settling beside him. He didn't look at her at first. He didn't need to. She could feel him — the awareness, the pull — even across the table.
Serene nudged her. "You're awfully quiet today."
"I'm fine," Amara murmured.
Aiden didn't look up from buttering his bread. "She always says that when she's not fine."
"I'm fine," she repeated, a little too quickly.
Across the table, Adrian finally lifted his gaze.
Just one look — steady, warm, knowing — and her heart stumbled.
She immediately looked away.
Then it happened.
A light nudge against her ankle.
Her breath caught.
She didn't move. Didn't react. Didn't dare look up.
Another nudge — slow, deliberate — brushing lightly against her foot.
Her fingers tightened around her fork.
Serene glanced at her again. "You sure you're okay?"
"Mm-hm," Amara squeaked.
Across the table, Adrian lifted his cup with infuriating calm, taking a sip as if he wasn't secretly teasing her under the table.
His foot brushed hers again — a gentle, playful caress that made her pulse jump.
Amara finally looked up.
Adrian's eyes were already on her — warm, amused, quietly daring her to react.
She mouthed, Stop.
Adrian raised one eyebrow — slow, subtle, infuriatingly confident — as if asking, Why? What will you do if I don't?
Then, just to prove his point, his foot nudged hers again.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She shot him a tiny glare — the kind only he would notice.
His lips twitched. Barely. A ghost of a smirk.
Finally, he withdrew his foot, giving her a moment to breathe. But his gaze stayed locked on hers — steady, soft, claiming her in a way no one else at the table could see.
Everyone else kept eating.
Only they knew what was happening.
Only they felt the tension.
Only they shared the secret.
Amara tried to focus on her food, but her heartbeat was still uneven. Adrian had gone back to eating as if nothing happened, listening to Aiden talk about schedules, nodding occasionally, completely composed.
Meanwhile, she was falling apart over a foot nudge.
But someone else noticed.
Lyra.
The youngest cousin sat across the table, quiet as always, her fork untouched. Her eyes weren't on her food. They were on Amara.
Sharp. Observant. Too knowing.
Amara shifted uncomfortably.
Lyra finally spoke, her voice soft but cutting in that way only she could manage. "You're acting strange today, Amara."
Serene looked over. "She's probably tired."
Lyra didn't look away. "No… it's different."
Amara's heart skipped.
Lyra's gaze flicked toward the doorway Adrian had walked through earlier, then back to Amara — a tiny movement, but full of meaning.
A silent accusation.
A quiet warning.
Cassian snorted. "Lyra, don't start."
"I'm not starting anything," she said, still staring at Amara. "I just notice things."
Her tone was calm, but her eyes were burning — jealousy hidden behind innocence.
Amara swallowed hard. "I'm fine."
Lyra tilted her head, studying her like she was a puzzle only she could solve. "You blush easily," she murmured.
Serene laughed. "She always has."
But Lyra wasn't joking.
She leaned forward slightly, her voice barely above a whisper — meant only for Amara.
"Did something happen this morning?"
Amara froze.
Lyra's expression didn't change, but her eyes sharpened, darkened, as if she already knew the answer.
As if she felt it.
As if she hated it.
Before Amara could respond, Adrian pushed his chair back.
"I'm done," he said quietly.
Aiden stood too. "I'll come with you."
Adrian paused. "No need. I'll be back."
Aiden sat again.
Adrian walked around the table, passing behind Amara. She kept her eyes on her plate, pretending she didn't feel him getting closer.
As he moved past her chair, he slowed — just for a heartbeat — and his hand brushed the back of her chair so lightly she almost thought she imagined it.
Almost.
His voice was low, meant only for her. "Try to eat," he murmured.
Her breath caught.
Then he walked out of the dining room, leaving her staring at her plate, cheeks warm, heart racing, and absolutely unable to take another bite.
Lyra watched her the entire time.
And this time, she didn't hide the jealousy in her eyes.