We need to talk.

Ava's POV

The next morning dawned gray and overcast, the kind of weather that mirrored the storm brewing inside me. I woke up earlier than usual, my sheets tangled around my legs from a night of fitful dreams—dreams where Taehyung's whisper echoed endlessly, his dark eyes pulling me into depths I wasn't ready to explore. I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, replaying every detail of the kitchen encounter: the heat of his body, the roughness of his voice, that damning word slipping from his lips like a confession. "Mine." It wasn't just possessive; it felt primal, like he'd been holding it back for years, and now the dam had cracked.

I dragged myself out of bed, the wooden floor cool under my feet as I padded to the bathroom. The house was still quiet—our parents were early risers, but on Saturdays, they lingered over coffee in the sunroom. I splashed water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked tired, shadowed with questions I didn't have answers to. What now? Confront him? Pretend I hadn't heard? The thought of ignoring it made my chest tighten; the pull was too strong, the curiosity too sharp.

Downstairs, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted me, mingling with the sizzle of bacon on the stove. Mom was at the counter, humming an old pop song as she flipped eggs, her hair tied back in a messy bun. Daniel sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through his tablet, probably checking stock prices or whatever architects did on weekends. And there, leaning against the fridge with a mug in hand, was Taehyung. He looked effortlessly put-together in joggers and a plain white tee, his hair still damp from a shower. His eyes lifted to mine the second I entered, that unreadable warmth flickering to life.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Mom chirped, sliding a plate toward me. "Pancakes or eggs? I made both."

"Eggs are fine," I mumbled, avoiding Taehyung's gaze as I grabbed a fork. But I could feel it— that stare, boring into me like he could read every turbulent thought in my head.

Daniel glanced up, smiling warmly. "Big plans today, Ava? Weather's iffy, but maybe you and Tae could hit the mall or something. Bond a little."

The suggestion hung in the air like a lead balloon. I nearly choked on my coffee. "Uh, I have studying to do. Finals coming up."

Taehyung set his mug down with a soft clink, his voice casual but laced with something deeper. "I could help. I'm good with... details."

My head snapped up, meeting his eyes. There it was—that smirk, subtle but knowing. Details. Like the way he'd memorized every inch of me over the years. "No thanks," I said quickly, too quickly. "I've got it covered."

Mom laughed, oblivious to the undercurrent. "You two are so independent. But seriously, Ava, Tae's a whiz at that stuff. Remember when he helped you with that economics paper last semester?"

I did remember. Vividly. We'd sat at this very table late into the night, his knee brushing mine under the wood as he explained concepts with that low, steady voice. Every time I leaned in to point at the screen, his breath would fan across my cheek, and I'd lose focus. "Yeah, but I'm good," I insisted, pushing my plate away half-eaten. "Actually, I think I'll head out early. Library calls."

Taehyung's expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened a fraction. "Need a ride?"

The offer was innocent on the surface, but we both knew it wasn't. Not after last night. "I'll drive myself," I replied, standing up. As I passed him to rinse my plate, our arms brushed—barely, but enough to send a jolt through me. Nearly touching. Always nearly.

The drive to the library was a blur, rain pattering against the windshield like accusatory fingers. I cranked up the radio, trying to drown out the echo of his whisper, but it was futile. By the time I settled into a quiet corner cubicle, books spread out before me, my mind was anywhere but on graphic design theory. Flashbacks assaulted me: the wedding, the attic conversations, the pool parties. Each one a thread in the web Taehyung had woven around us.

Hours passed in a haze. I sketched absentmindedly in my notebook— not class notes, but doodles of sharp eyes and tousled hair. Pathetic. When my phone buzzed, I jumped, half-expecting it to be him. But it was my best friend, Lila.

**Lila:** Hey girl, coffee run? Need to vent about Derek's latest drama.

I hesitated, then typed back: **Sure. Meet at the usual spot in 20?**

The café was a cozy nook near campus, with mismatched chairs and the constant hiss of espresso machines. Lila was already there, waving me over with her signature enthusiasm. She's been my confidante since freshman year—curly-haired, outspoken, the opposite of my more reserved self.

"You look like you haven't slept," she said as I slid into the booth, pushing a latte my way. "Spill."

I wrapped my hands around the warm cup, debating how much to reveal. "It's... complicated. Family stuff."

She raised an eyebrow. "Stepbro drama? Taehyung being his mysterious self again?"

Lila knew the basics—how we'd been thrown together, how he was hot but untouchable. But not the depth of it. Not the stares, the whispers. "Something like that," I admitted. "Last night, he... said something weird."

Her eyes widened. "Weird how? Like, creepy weird or hot weird?"

I laughed, but it came out strained. "Both? I don't know. He's always watching me, you know? And then he whispered 'mine' as he left the kitchen. Like, possessively."

Lila leaned in, whispering dramatically. "Whoa. Stepbro wants to step up, huh? That's straight out of a romance novel. Forbidden love and all that jazz."

"It's not funny," I groaned, but a part of me thrilled at the words. Forbidden. That's what it was, wasn't it? Society's taboo, family's complication. "What do I do?"

She sipped her drink, thoughtful. "Confront him. Ask what the hell he means. Or... see where it goes. You're both adults now. Twenty-one and twenty-three? No one's getting hurt."

But someone could. Our parents, for one. The fragile family dynamic we'd built. And me—if I let myself fall into whatever this was.

We chatted more—about her boyfriend issues, campus gossip—but my mind kept drifting back. By the time we parted, the rain had stopped, leaving the streets glistening under the afternoon sun. I drove home slowly, steeling myself for the inevitable encounter.

The house was alive when I arrived: music playing from the living room, the smell of garlic wafting from the kitchen. Mom and Daniel were cooking together, laughing over a shared joke. Taehyung was nowhere in sight—at first.

"Ava, perfect timing!" Mom called. "Dinner's almost ready. Italian night."

I forced a smile, hanging up my coat. "Sounds great. Need help?"

Before she could answer, Taehyung appeared at the top of the stairs, descending with that effortless grace. "I'll set the table," he offered, his eyes locking on mine. "Ava, grab the plates?"

It was a simple request, but it felt loaded. We moved to the dining room together, the space suddenly feeling too small. As I handed him the stack of plates, our fingers brushed—deliberately this time? The contact was brief, but electric, sending sparks up my arm.

"We need to talk," I whispered, glancing toward the kitchen to ensure privacy.

He paused, setting down a plate with careful precision. "About?"

"You know what," I hissed. "Last night. That word."

His lips curved into that infuriating smirk. "Which word? Goodnight?"

"Don't play dumb, Tae. 'Mine.' What the hell?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to match mine. The proximity made my breath hitch—again. "What if I meant it?"

My heart stuttered. "Meant it how? We're family."

"Steps," he corrected, his gaze intense. "Not blood. And you feel it too, Ava. Don't deny it."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died. Because he was right. The tension, the pull—it wasn't one-sided. I'd felt it since the wedding, buried it under layers of denial.

Before I could respond, Mom called us for dinner. The meal was torture: polite conversation about work and school, while under the table, Taehyung's foot nudged mine. Accidental? No. Teasing. Possessive.

After, as our parents settled in for a movie, Taehyung caught my arm in the hallway. "Roof," he murmured. "Ten minutes."

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