"It's Not What It Looks Like… I Think"
The room was frozen in awkward silence.
Scarlett's face slowly turned crimson as she realized where exactly her hands—and chest—were. Lyra blinked in confusion, still trapped in the hug, her hands resting on my shoulders like she was steadying a small animal. And me? I just sat there, praying the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
"Uhm… Hello, everyone," I managed, my voice cracking like a teenage boy at a choir recital.
Layla's eyes narrowed dangerously. "How interesting, Noah. Recovering quite... comfortably, I see."
Olivia looked away quickly, her cheeks flushed bright pink. "We… we should've knocked first."
My mother cleared her throat. Loudly.
My father, however, gave me a thumbs-up behind her back with a silent 'Atta boy' smirk.
"...This isn't what it looks like," I said quickly.
"Oh? So you weren't just sandwiched between two girls with your hands somewhere questionable while one of them hugged the other on top of you?" Layla asked flatly.
"...Okay maybe it is what it looks like," I admitted, sinking further into the chair.
Scarlett jumped off me like I was made of lava. "No! I mean, yes! I mean—it's not what it looks like, I swear!"
Lyra stepped back, confused. "Did I do something wrong? Was I too cold?"
"No! No, you were perfect—wait! I didn't mean it like that!" I waved my hands, only to feel my stitches tug painfully.
Mom sighed. "Well, I see you're recovering well."
"Extremely well," Layla muttered.
Father chuckled. "Seems our boy's doing just fine."
"We'll talk later," Mom added sharply, giving my dad a side-eye.
Then she turned back to me, smiling with far too much amusement.
"Two girls in one room, Noah? And you couldn't even sit up straight an hour ago. My, how the 'injured' recover when sufficiently motivated."
"M-Mom!"
She leaned in with a smirk. "Should I give you three? Or perhaps bring in a fourth, just to make it even ?"
Scarlett's eyes widened. "N-no ma'am!!"
Lyra tilted her head. "Would four be more effective for his healing?"
Layla, arms crossed, was trembling.
Not from embarrassment.
But from barely contained, terrifying calm.
"Oh no," she said softly. "Let's all stay. I insist."
Scarlett grabbed Olivia's hand. "L-let's give them space! Come on, Olivia!"
Olivia didn't protest, practically teleporting out with her light magic as Scarlett slammed the door behind them.
Now it was just me, Lyra, my very amused mom, and—
Layla.
Still smiling.
Still watching.
Like a cat playing with a cornered mouse.
Mom chuckled. "I'll be downstairs if you survive. Do try not to die from excitement, sweetheart."
The door clicked shut.
Layla stepped closer.
"Now, Noah…" she said sweetly. "Why don't we talk about what exactly was going on while I was out?"
I gulped. "I—can explain—"
"Oh, I know you can," she said, her eyes glowing just faintly amber. "And you will. Slowly. In detail."
I looked toward the door.
No escape.
I looked at Lyra.
Nowhere to be seen. You traitor .
Now alone with a angry Yandere.
I looked at Layla.
Death.
' I survived shadow demons. I survived the Shadow Prince. But this? This might actually kill me.'