Falling for my Enemy's Brother Chapter 40: Caught On Screen

I hadn’t even heard her walk in. That’s how lost I was in the mont.

"Is that rlina?" Adriana’s voice was cold, it cut through the silence like a shard of glass.

My heart jerked.

I froze in place, hand still on the trackpad, rlina’s face glowing back at from the screen. The smile in the photo suddenly felt like an accusation.

Slowly, I fully turned around.

Adriana stood close by, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the laptop like it had just confird a suspicion she didn’t know she had. Her expression wasn’t angry. It was worse—quiet disappointnt. Like she was still trying to figure out if she had a right to be mad.

I could’ve lied, said I was just scrolling aimlessly, or that I’d clicked sothing by accident.

But I didn’t. Because sohow, that would’ve made it worse. More obvious.

What excuse could ever sound right when you’re caught staring at another girl’s Instagram?

Especially when the girl is rlina.

"I haven’t told you," I started, voice low, hands clenched in my lap. "But rlina... she’s the daughter of the professor who died here last year. Professor Sanchez."

Adrena’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Mrs. Marjorie Sanchez?"

I nodded, barely. "Yeah. That’s her mom. She thinks Conor had sothing to do with it. I believe that’s the reason she’s in Belford."

Her gaze flicked back to the screen before returning to . "Oh my God. Was that why she ca to the guesthouse that day? Looking for Conor?"

"Yeah." I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as the weight of it settled on my shoulders. "But it’s all rumors."

Adriana’s eyes didn’t move. She just stood there, waiting.

"He didn’t do anything," I added, more firmly this ti, though my voice felt smaller than I intended. "He was drugged. He doesn’t even rember the night."

The silence stretched between us. I hated how defensive I sounded. Like I was justifying sothing I wasn’t even sure I had a right to explain.

Adrena stepped closer. Her arms dropped to her sides, then she gently wrapped them around my shoulders, resting her chin on top of my head like she used to when things were simple. Her warmth was familiar. Comforting.

"Just let your brother handle his ss, okay?" she said gently.

Then she kissed .

First on the cheek, then softer, slower, on the lips.

I let her. For a mont, I let myself lean into the comfort she was offering. The illusion of ease. But then I pulled back, just slightly, just enough.

"You didn’t tell you were coming over," I said, my voice lower than before, laced with sothing I couldn’t quite na.

Adriana smiled like she hadn’t noticed the shift. Or maybe she had, and chose to ignore it. "Yeah, I wanted you to try this lasagna I ordered. From Bruno’s on 8th—don’t even argue, it’s literally the best."

She held up the takeout bag with a little flair, then turned toward the hallway.

"You know what?" she added over her shoulder. "I need to go serve it up before it gets cold."

And with that, she disappeared into the kitchen, heels clicking softly against the floor, leaving staring at the blank screen of my laptop—and the even blanker space inside my chest.

I stared at the screen for another few seconds—at rlina’s smile. At everything I wasn’t supposed to want.

Then I closed the laptop, the click sounding louder than it should’ve.

And the guilt settled in.

Not just for looking. But for feeling everything I wasn’t supposed to feel—for a girl who hated , for a truth I wasn’t sure I could fix, and for being the one person who saw the weight of it all and still didn’t know what to do with it.

I found her in the kitchen, already plating the lasagna like we were so picture-perfect couple from a lifestyle magazine. The lights were dim, warm. She had poured us both sothing red—wine, maybe cranberry juice, I didn’t ask. I just watched her for a second, trying to match her ease, her rhythm. Like this was normal. Like I wasn’t unraveling on the inside.

"You ward it up?" I asked, grabbing the plates and helping her set them on the island.

She smiled. "It didn’t need it. Bruno’s always gets it here hot. Perks of being their favorite custor."

I gave a half-smile, sitting beside her. "You say that about every restaurant you order from."

"That’s because I am their favorite custor."

She forked a bite into her mouth and closed her eyes like she’d just tasted heaven. "See? Told you. Try it."

I did. It was good. Really good, actually. But my head wasn’t in it.

Adriana kept talking—about her class, so girl drama in the group chat, how Coach Randall was probably getting fired again. I nodded, made the right noises, tried to be present. But my mind kept drifting.

To rlina.

To her face on my screen. To the way she looked at the world. To the way she looked at at the Cabin, her presence in my car, so close, so real, like it was always ant to be, it hadn’t left . Not really.

And now, here I was, careless enough to let Adriana catch scrolling through her pictures.

This wasn’t . I wasn’t the guy who got sloppy. I wasn’t the one getting drawn in, tangled up in thoughts about a girl.

It was always the other way around.

I needed to get a grip—on my thoughts, on myself. Before this thing pulled under.

"You okay?" Adriana asked, her voice softer now.

I blinked and looked at her. "Yeah. Just... tired."

She reached out and touched my hand. "You’ve been stretched thin lately."

"Yeah," I said again. That’s all I could say without saying too much.

Adriana was everything steady. The girl who showed up. Who kissed like she ant it. Who brought lasagna to my kitchen and called it love. And I cared about her. I really did. But sotis care wasn’t enough.

Sotis, you want the person who makes everything harder. The one who makes you question what you thought you wanted. The one who turns steady ground into sothing shakier—but alive.

And that’s when my phone buzzed.

Face down on the counter. Just one ring.

I flipped it over.

rlina.

Her na lit up the screen like a dare.

Adriana was still talking, still smiling. But I didn’t hear a word.

My hand hovered over the phone.

And that’s where everything shifted.