Falling for my Enemy's Brother
Chapter 90: Fractured Confessions

Chapter 90: Fractured Confessions

’Louis ❤️❤️❤️’

Craig’s eyes stayed glued to the screen. And then, without thinking, he let go.

The phone slipped from his hand like it burned him, falling through the open stairwell. It hit the floor with a sickening crack, skidding face down across the tile.

Merlina couldn’t even scream, she just stared at him. Stunned and silent, then she quickly bolted down the stairs. Her knees hit the floor as she scooped it up.

The screen was shattered, spiderwebbed and fractured nearly in half. The emojis glowed faintly behind the broken glass. A tiny shard of screen glass bit into her thumb as she turned it over.

Her heart slammed into her ribs, she stared down at the broken phone in her hand, no words came. Did he really just do that? The thought looped again and again, each repetition sharper than the last.

Shock rooted her to the spot.

Craig stood at the top of the stairs, paralyzed by what he’d done. His face had gone pale, like the moment had finally caught up with him. Slowly, he descended, each step weighted with regret.

He stopped a few feet behind her. His voice came low. Soft, almost unsure. "Is it... damaged?"

She let out a cold, humorless laugh. "You dropped it from how many feets and you’re asking if it’s damaged?"

"I didn’t mean to," he said quickly.

"Yeah. That’s the thing with you, Craig. You never mean to, do you?" Her voice sharpened. "You act before you think. You destroy things without even noticing."

He stared at her, his expression tightening, confused, almost offended. Like he couldn’t understand where that statement was suddenly coming from.

"It’s a phone, Merlina," he muttered. "I’ll get you a new one—"

She shot up, spinning to face him. "You think this is about replacing it? You think because you have money, you can just toss things away and fix it with a swipe of your card?"

His jaw clenched. "Then what is this about ? Are you really this upset about your screen? Or is it because he called?"

She blinked back, like she needed a second to believe he actually said that. Slowly, her expression shifted from hurt to rage, to a look that could cut.

"Are you—" she paused, a stunned laugh catching in her throat. "Are you crazy?"

She took a step back, eyes burning into him. "You dropped my phone, shattered it. And now you’re making this about Louis?"

"It isn’t about him?" Craig said, stepping forward. "Huh?"

"So what if it is? He’s my boyfriend," she hissed. "He’s been there for me when you...when everything was falling apart. He matters to me."

"Yeah?" he said, biting. "So what...you love him?"Craig asked, eyes hard.

"Yes. I do." She answered too quickly, too certainly. Like if she said it hard enough, it would feel true.

He laughed then, but there was no warmth in it. Just disbelief. Bitterness.

"You love him," Craig echoed. "Right. And yet you kissed me like that. You touched me like you didn’t even remember he existed. So what is it, Merlina? Are you that naive or do you just kiss any guy who gives you a little attention?"

For a split second, she just stared at him. Then her hand moved fast, sharp, almost graceful in its fury.

The crack of her palm against his cheek was deafening in the silence that followed.

It wasn’t just anger. It was heartbreak, shame, frustration, everything she couldn’t put in words slamming into his skin all at once.

Craig’s face jerked to the side, the sting blooming red across his cheek. A thin scratch from her ring traced his skin.

He blinked, in disbelief.

Merlina stared at him, hand still trembling at her side. "Shit," she whispered. "Craig...I didn’t mean to..." she murmured. Her voice was barely audible. "You—do you...do you have, like, first aid?"

"First aid?" Craig asked, genuinely confused, his brows knitting together. The sting was still fresh on his cheek, his body still catching up to what had just happened.

"Your face...a little..." she stammered, unable to finish the sentence. She hesitantly lifted her hand, as if to show him the fashion ring on her finger, but the shame was louder than her words.

She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit she might’ve cut him.

Craig finally stepped in front of the nearest mirror, catching the scratch. Just a tiny cut on the side of his face, but it changed the air between them.

"It’s—it’s nothing," Merlina stammered. "It’s gonna heal. I just...maybe an ointment or something?" She quickly added.

"I don’t know," Craig muttered, voice low. "Maybe upstairs."

They climbed the stairs in a silence far heavier than before. No words passed between them, just the ache of too much done and too much said wrong.

Neither of them had meant for it to go this far.

The slap, the broken phone, the things they threw at each other that weren’t objects but words.

It could’ve gone differently.

Should’ve.

But now they were here, carrying the weight of it in every step.

In his room, Merlina opened a drawer and found a small first aid kit.

Craig stood near the door, unmoving. He wasn’t angry, he couldn’t be. A part of him, quietly, almost bitterly, believed he’d earned it. What lingered in his silence wasn’t rage, but something heavier. Sadness.

He reached for the ointment in her hand, fingers brushing hers. Hot and tense.

"Let me," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just... stay still."

Craig’s jaw tightened. For a moment, it looked like he’d refuse. But then something in him gave in, he exhaled, slow and quiet, and gave a small nod.

She stepped in closer. Close enough to smell the faint trace of his cologne, to feel the heat rolling off his skin. Her fingers were gentle as she tilted his chin slightly, guiding his face toward the light.

The scratch wasn’t deep, just angry and red, a thin line kissed by her ring. Still, it made her stomach twist.

She dipped the cotton swab in ointment, her hands trembling just slightly, and pressed it carefully to the wound. He flinched, only a little, but didn’t pull away.

"It’s not gonna scar," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the mark. "Doesn’t need a band-aid, but... if you want..."

"I’m fine," he cut in, voice low, but not sharp.

His eyes were on her, not the ointment. They were on her face, the way her brow furrowed as she focused.

Merlina lowered her gaze, shame creeping up her neck like heat. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m not... I’m not a violent person. You just—" her voice faltered, fingers tightening around the tube, "—you bring out sides of me I don’t even recognize."

She closed the ointment with a soft click, her gaze fixed anywhere but him.

Craig didn’t respond immediately. He turned away instead, silent. Walked across the room, slow, measured steps and picked up his phone from the desk. His back was to her as he typed something in, thumbs moving with a quiet urgency.

Then he turned, walked back, and held his phone out to her. No words. Just the glowing screen between them.

"Put in your address," he said, finally. "Or your number. The replacement’ll be delivered to you, with an option to back up your data. It’s the least I can do."

She looked at him, then slowly took the phone, tapping in her number. When she handed it back, neither of them spoke.

Craig sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands. "I’m sorry about your phone," he murmured. "I just...I have no excuses. I probably don’t know what I’m doing anymore."

Merlina stood a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself like she was holding something in. Her voice was quiet, but steady.

"I don’t know either," she said, voice low, tight. "You help me one day and then ghost me for a month. Then you show up here, let I and my siblings into your home, and now? You’re tossing my phone. I don’t... know if this is some kind of game to you."

She inhaled, sharp and shallow, like she was trying to keep her voice from shaking. There was no heat in her words, just confusion, laced with something more fragile. Hurt. Disappointment.

She looked at him then, eyes glassy, throat bobbled and found him already watching her. His expression was open in a way she hadn’t seen before. Unmasked. Wounded. And maybe a little scared.

For once, neither of them looked away.

Everything they’d been avoiding sat thick in the air between them. No sarcasm. No pretense. Just raw truth, cracked and aching.

Merlina shifted slightly, like the weight of the moment was pressing down on her. She hesitated, "Maybe... you’re bored. Or you’re trying to get back at Louis. With me?"

That stopped him cold.

His brow pulled together, not in anger but surprise. Like her words had come from a place he hadn’t even considered. "Is that really what you think this is?"

Merlina looked away, not out of defiance, but because she didn’t know what to say, meeting his eyes in that moment felt too much, too overwhelming.

Craig’s voice came quieter, lower. "Then why do you keep letting me in?"

She blinked, thrown off guard. "What?"

He took a step closer. "If you think this is just a game to me...why do you let me this close?" His tone was soft, but the ache in it was unmistakable. "In the middle of all the mess we’re both in, why do you let me touch parts of you that no one else gets to see?"

Her throat tightened as she fought to hold everything in. The sting in her eyes, the tremble in her chest. It built slowly, painfully, like a wave she couldn’t stop.

And then, barely more than breath, "I don’t know."

Craig swallowed hard. Stepped even closer.

"Why is it so impossible to believe that maybe I feel it too? That this isn’t just some twisted joke for me? Don’t you think you’re judging me too harshly?"

Merlina stepped back, unable to speak. Her arms wrapped around herself like she needed the barrier, but her eyes were already shimmering again.

Craig exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, fingers tightening at the back of his neck. He looked down for a beat, like the words were lodged somewhere deep. Hard to find, harder to say.

"You think I’d leave my friends, my entire life, and fly all the way to Mallorca for a game?" His voice cracked, just slightly, as he looked at her. "You think me being here is some kind of coincidence?" he said, softer now, almost pleading.

Merlina drew in a sharp breath, she looked down at her hands, then up again just enough to meet his eyes. Her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm, like she was fighting something inside herself. Her fingers curled into her palm, then loosened, restless.

"I came here for you," Craig continued. "Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I kept checking your page, watching for you. And then I saw your post about the carnival and...I don’t know. Every part of me just wanted to be near you."

Her eyes flickered, something in her breaking. She didn’t cry, but she looked like she could’ve. Like if she blinked too long, it might all come rushing out. The corner of her mouth trembled. She hated how much she wanted to believe him, hated how much she already did.

"I’ve tried to stay away, believe me I have tried to do the right thing. But every time I see you," he swallowed, eyes locked on hers. "Everytime...it’s like something in me refuses to let go."

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t move closer. But he looked like he wanted to. Like his whole body was aching to close the space between them, holding itself still out of respect. Or fear. Or restraint.

And she felt it all, the sincerity, the ache, the reckless, quiet hope that maybe... maybe this thing between them was real.

Something pulled in her chest, tight and sudden.

"I feel the same way too," she whispered, and that was it. That was the breaking point. "More than you can imagine...and I’m tired of pretending I don’t."

That broke something open. Craig’s expression crumpled with something tender as he stepped forward, cupping her face with both hands like she was something sacred.

When he kissed her, it wasn’t just want, it was all the missed moments, all the silence, all the feeling too big for words. And this time, she kissed him with everything she hadn’t been able to admit, letting it spill out in the only way she could.

She gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, grounding herself in the solid weight of him, like she didn’t trust this to be real unless she could feel it, all of it.

They stumbled back toward the bed, mouths never parting, breath shared and desperate. Her hands slid beneath his shirt again, bolder now, palms grazing the hard lines of his back and chest. And then slowly, deliberately, she tugged it upward.

He broke the kiss just long enough for her to pull it over his head, the heat rising in her as she tossed it aside. Craig’s eyes searched hers, his chest rising and falling fast.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, voice wrecked against her skin.