My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 52: The Day When Hell Froze Over

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Adrien plated the food in silence, sliding one dish towards me before taking a seat across the table. The aroma of the eggs and sautéed tomatoes filled the cabin, stirring a mix of hunger and embarrassment in my stomach.

I hesitated for a moment before mumbling, "Thanks."

He didn’t even glance my way; he just dove into his meal like I wasn’t even there. Classic.

I picked up my fork and took a bite, and wow, my taste buds were dancing. This stuff was... actually delicious. Like, seriously good. The eggs were fluffy and seasoned just right, and those tomatoes had this fresh tanginess that made everything pop. I couldn’t resist going in for another bite.

"Okay," I said, swallowing slowly, "This is... really amazing."

He raised an eyebrow but kept chewing, his expression still unreadable.

With curiosity getting the best of me, I couldn’t hold back. "W–when did you learn to cook? I’ve never seen you near a frying pan before. The chef practically had a no-entry sign for anyone else in the kitchen."

He shrugged, spearing another piece of tomato. "I pick things up quickly."

I blinked at his vague response but chose not to press further. An awkward silence hung between us, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. The only sounds were the clinking of our forks and the gentle rustle of the trees outside.

Eventually, the guilt that had been eating at me since yesterday became too heavy to ignore. I set my fork down, my fingers tracing the edge of my plate. "About what I said yesterday... when I blamed you for Keith and Mom leaving us here."

Adrien didn’t look up. He just took another slow bite.

"It... it wasn’t fair," I said, my voice softening. "I was angry and frustrated, but it wasn’t entirely your fault. I just—"

When I finally mustered the courage to glance at him, he was staring at me in this weird way, like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or if I’d sprouted another head. His eyes softened for a moment before snapping back to his usual coldness.

"What?" I frowned, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly, as if he was clearing his thoughts. "Nothing. Just..." He leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath. "Can you cut the sap?"

I gaped at him, irritation creeping up my neck. "Wow. You really have a talent for ruining nice moments."

He smirked a little, not even attempting to deny it.

I sighed, stabbing another bite of egg just to channel my frustration. Why do I even bother? I thought bitterly, chewing in silence as he finished his food, a confusing mix of coldness and ridiculous skill.

After we finished eating, I cleared our plates before he could say anything, determined to show I wasn’t completely useless. The least I could do was wash the dishes, especially after he cooked like some secret Michelin chef. Standing at the sink, I turned on the tap and let the warm water run while rinsing off crumbs and grease. The soft clinking of plates filled the quiet.

As odd as it sounds, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. If he wasn’t such a self-centered jerk all the time, he might actually make a good husband or something. That thought made me cringe, so I shook it off and scrubbed harder than necessary, as if I could wash that idea away.

What surprised me was that Adrien didn’t bolt the second breakfast ended. Normally, he’d be halfway up the stairs before I could blink, probably slamming his door for dramatic flair. But this time... he stayed.

I could feel his gaze on me...steady, emotionless, while I pretended not to notice, my shoulders tensing under the weight of his silence. The sound of the running water felt too loud, almost awkward.

I tried to focus on the dishes, avoiding the feeling of his eyes on me. But I could sense it—the unmistakable weight of his gaze following my every movement, quiet and almost heavy. My neck grew warm, and my hands became clumsier as I scrubbed the frying pan.

Part of me wanted to snap and ask what his deal was, why he was just sitting there instead of heading off to whatever brooding he usually filled his mornings with. But I didn’t.

For once, he wasn’t throwing insults or sarcasm my way, and I didn’t want to ruin that. The silence felt fragile, strangely peaceful, and I didn’t dare disturb it.

I kept washing dishes, pretending I didn’t notice his watchful gaze. He remained right where he was, observing quietly. The soft sound of water running and the creaking of the cabin floor were the only sounds we shared.

It wasn’t the most comfortable situation, but it wasn’t terrible either. For us, that felt like some sort of progress.

I was almost done rinsing the last dish when I heard a low, uncertain voice from behind me.

"So..." Adrien started, his tone casual but with a hint of hesitation that didn’t quite fit him. "We’re really stuck here for two weeks, huh?"

I froze mid-scrub, staring blankly at the soapy plate in my hands. For a second, I thought I imagined it. Adrien Fell, my arrogant, perpetually irritated stepbrother who made it a mission to make my life hell—was starting a conversation? Voluntarily?

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look at him, worried that if I showed too much surprise, he’d retreat behind his wall again. "L–looks that way," I finally said, setting the plate down. "A whole two weeks of fresh air, bad phone service, and the joy of each other’s company."

He chuckled softly, a real laughter—and I felt my shoulders relax a bit. "You make it sound like a prison sentence," he said, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table.

"Isn’t it?" I replied under my breath, pretending to focus on the soap bubbles forming in the sink.

He tilted his head, sizing me up. "You think our parents are spying on us through hidden cameras? Probably lounging in a cozy hotel room, betting on who cracks first."

That made me snort before I could stop myself. "If they are, I bet their money is on me."

"Nah," he said, leaning back with a lazy grin that almost looked friendly. "You’ve got more patience than you think. I’ll end up killing you before day ten."

"Great," I said, shooting him a glare over my shoulder. "That’s comforting."

He smirked softly. "Just kidding... mostly."

The silence that followed felt lighter this time. It wasn’t as heavy. I turned back to the sink, hiding a smile creeping onto my face. I couldn’t believe he’d actually talked to me without throwing an insult. Maybe hell really had frozen over.

"Don’t overthink it," he said suddenly, as if he could read my mind. "I’m just bored."

I rolled my eyes and rinsed the sponge. "Sure, of course."

What on earth was even happening?