My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}

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"I’m fine, Mom. Seriously," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The party was just... a bit much. And honestly, I didn’t get the best sleep afterward."

Mom reached out and gently ruffled my hair, just like she used to when I was young and came home crying from school or with a scraped knee. Her fingers lingered a bit, smoothing my hair down, but there was a hint of sadness in her smile...her lips turned up, but her eyes didn’t match.

The soft light from the lamp made her features look gentle as well, but it couldn’t hide those worry lines that had started showing up more frequently lately.

"I know Keith told me to chill, but I just can’t help it," she said softly, mixing that familiar motherly love with a touch of frustration. "Worrying is pretty much part of the job description."

She let her hand drop to her lap, twisting her wedding ring like she often did since marrying Keith. "You used to tell me everything, Noah. We’d sit on the couch of our tiny apartment, ice cream in hand, and talk for hours—about school, boys, and that ridiculous teacher who couldn’t pronounce ’espionage’ right, remember?"

A little laugh slipped out, filled with nostalgia and some pain. "But ever since we moved here, it’s like there’s this gap. Like one day, I turned around, and my little boy had built a wall that I just can’t seem to get over."

Her words weighed heavily in my chest because she was right. Moving into this mansion had changed everything—new rooms, new routines, new people. Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped sharing the little things, then the medium ones, and now the big, life-changing stuff that felt like it was about to overflow out of me like a suitcase that couldn’t close.

"I know it’s my fault," she continued, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. "I got so caught up in being a new wife—helping Keith with the company’s gala, flying to meetings about investments, decorating this crazy house like it’s out of a magazine. I see now that I haven’t been around like I should be."

She took my hand, squeezing it gently, her touch warm and familiar.