ANICA'S POV
By the time we finished the last race, it was already close to lunchtime. Marco was still arguing that my victory didn't count because Ethan had been quietly telling me which turns to take. I told him that knowing when to brake didn't magically make the car drive itself, but he refused to accept that as a valid argument.
Ethan had already moved on from the debate. He put the controllers back on the table and headed into the kitchen.
"I'm making lunch."
Marco narrowed his brows. "You cook?"
Ethan opened the refrigerator. "Yes."
"Since when?"
"Since I was younger."
I watched him take the ingredients out.
"My parents taught me. They didn't want us growing up unable to take care of ourselves."
Marco leaned against the kitchen counter. "My parents taught me that food arrives faster when you order it."
"That explains why you can't cook," I said.
"I can cook."
"What can you make?"
"Several things."
"Name one."
He hesitated. "Instant noodles."
I laughed. "That's not cooking."
"You still eat them."
"Because they're already prepared."
Ethan shook his head while opening a cabinet. "Can one of you get the rice?"
"I'll do it," I said.
I went into the kitchen and found the rice cooker while Ethan started preparing the rest. We moved around each other without needing much direction, which made me realize we'd probably done this sort of thing before without me ever thinking about it.
Marco stayed nearby, contributing mostly unnecessary commentary. "You two look like you've been living together for years."
I glanced at him. "Do you want to be useful?"
"I provide emotional support."
"You provide noise."
"Same thing."
Ethan laughed under his breath. I smiled and went back to what I was doing.
The apartment smelled better with every minute that passed. Garlic, fried onions, and something savory filled the room while sunlight came through the kitchen window.
I was carrying the rice toward the table when someone knocked.
Ethan walked toward the door. "Are you expecting someone?"
"No."
Marco immediately pointed at the food. "If that's the delivery guy, I'm answering."
"You didn't order anything."
"That has never stopped me before."
Ethan dried his hands before opening the door. Adrian was standing outside.
Marco stared at him. "Well, that's convenient."
Adrian looked past him toward the kitchen. "Am I early?"
"For lunch?" Ethan asked.
"Apparently."
"You can come in."
Adrian stepped inside. His gaze moved through the apartment before settling on me. It paused briefly when he noticed the oversized shirt, then moved on as naturally as if he'd noticed the television was still on.
I suddenly became aware of how ridiculous the sleeves looked.
Marco noticed him noticing and grinned. "She stole Ethan's shirt."
"I didn't steal it."
"I lent it to her," Ethan said from the doorway.
Adrian nodded once. "Right."
That was apparently the end of it. He walked toward the living room and sat down while Ethan returned to the kitchen.
"You came here for lunch?" I asked.
"I was nearby."
Marco raised an eyebrow. "You just happened to be nearby?"
"Yes."
"That's suspicious."
Adrian turned toward him. "Why?"
Marco opened his mouth, then seemed to realize he didn't actually have an answer. "Never mind."
I almost smiled.
Ethan returned with the first dish and placed it on the table. "Five minutes."
Marco immediately stood. "I'll help."
I shook my head. "You don't even know where anything is."
"I can carry things."
"That's different."
"I'll carry something."
He took the nearest plate before Ethan could stop him.
Adrian stood as well. "I'll help."
Ethan handed him another plate. "Careful. It's hot."
"I can tell."
"You'd be surprised how often people forget that."
Marco turned to him. "Are you talking about me?"
"Yes."
"Fair."
We eventually got everything onto the table. Ethan sat at one end, Marco dropped into the chair beside me, and Adrian took the remaining seat. The food was simple, but it smelled good enough that none of us talked for the first few minutes.
Marco was the first to break the silence. "This is officially better than anything I would've ordered."
"You say that like you weren't going to order something."
"I was considering it."
"You were definitely going to."
"Maybe."
I took another bite. "It's good."
He smiled. "Thanks."
Adrian nodded toward the food. "You cook often?"
"When I have time."
"Your parents taught you?"
"Yeah."
Marco swallowed and pointed his fork toward Ethan. "His parents actually made him learn. My parents gave up on me."
"You weren't exactly cooperative," Ethan said.
"I had other talents."
"Name one."
Marco thought for a moment. "I can win arguments."
"You lose most of them."
"That's because you cheat."
I laughed.
Adrian listened to their exchange. "You two have been doing this for a while."
"Since we were kids," Marco said.
Ethan nodded. I listened to them argue while eating, letting the conversation move around me without needing to participate in every part of it.
For once, nobody seemed interested in what had happened that morning. That made it easier to breathe. After we finished eating, Ethan started collecting the plates.
"I'll wash."
"I'll help," I said.
He handed me two plates. "Then dry these."
I followed him into the kitchen while Marco stayed at the table with Adrian.
The conversation between them became quieter behind us.
Ethan turned on the tap. "Your sleeve is going to get wet."
I lowered my eyes to the shirt. "I'll roll it up."
I pushed the sleeves toward my elbows, but the fabric immediately fell back down.
Ethan smiled. "That shirt really is too big."
"I told you."
He reached for a rubber band from a small container near the sink and handed it to me.
"Use this."
I tied the sleeve back.
"Better."
"Much."
We continued with the dishes. It was a small thing, but I liked moments like this. There was nothing I needed to explain, nothing I needed to defend, and no reason to think about what anyone expected from me.
When we returned to the living room, Marco was showing Adrian something on his phone.
"Look at this."
Adrian glanced at the screen. "That's the same race you lost."
"I didn't lose."
"You finished second."
"Because Ethan was helping Anica."
Adrian asked me. "You won?"
"Twice."
Marco pointed at Ethan. "Because of him."
Ethan shrugged. "She still had to drive."
Adrian nodded. "You two work well together."
Ethan didn't seem particularly surprised by the comment.
Marco immediately leaned back. "Of course they do. We've known each other forever."
Adrian didn't respond to that. He simply looked back at the phone in Marco's hand. I didn't think much of it at first.
Then I remembered something I'd been meaning to ask since the photograph appeared. "Adrian."
He met my gaze.
"What exactly did my Mom talk to you about last Thursday?"
Marco lowered his phone. Ethan glanced over from the kitchen.
Adrian considered the question. "She asked about you."
"Me?"
"Mostly."
He leaned back against the couch. "She wanted to know how we met, how long we'd known each other, and why we'd been spending time together."
That sounded like Mom.
"Anything else?"
"She asked about my family."
"What did you tell her?"
"That my parents were abroad and that I was staying here for school."
That made sense. Mom already knew the Vale family, so there was nothing strange about her recognizing the name. What I couldn't understand was how she'd known which Adrian I meant.
"Did she say anything about how she found you?"
Adrian paused. "Found me?"
"I only told her your first name."
He was quiet for a moment. "Just Adrian?"
"Just Adrian."
Something shifted in his expression. "I assumed you had told her who I was."
"I didn't."
He seemed to replay the conversation in his head. "Then I don't know how she knew."
Marco frowned. "That's actually weird."
"I didn't tell her your surname. I didn't tell her your course either."
Adrian glanced at me. "Then I don't know."
This time, the answer didn't feel like he was avoiding the question. He genuinely had no explanation, and that left me with the same problem. Mom had known exactly who he was. I just didn't know how.
"Maybe she asked someone," Ethan said.
"Maybe."
Marco leaned back. "Your mother knows half the city anyway."
"That's not helpful."
"I'm aware."
Adrian had nothing else to add, and neither did I. The question stayed where it was, unanswered, so I let it go. For now.
Marco picked up the controller from the table. "Rematch."
I raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"I need to restore my dignity."
"You never had any."
He stared at me. "That's rude."
Ethan took the other controller and handed it to me. "Ready?"
I smiled. "Always."
Marco groaned as the game loaded. "You two are teaming up again."
"No," I said, settling into the couch. "I'm just going to beat you myself this time."
Ethan sat beside me. "We'll see."
The countdown appeared on the screen, and the question of how Mom had found Adrian when I'd only given her his first name could wait a little longer. I had a race to win.
---
MIA'S POV
I was scrolling through my phone when Adrian's post appeared on my feed. I had already seen the photograph earlier. By now, almost everyone had.
What started as rumors about Anica and her mother had quickly become something else. Adrian had denied the claims, but that hadn't ended the discussion. Instead, people had started asking where the photograph came from and who had posted it first.
Someone had found an older version. Another person claimed the current account wasn't the original source. Then someone mentioned that an earlier post had already been deleted.
I stopped scrolling. That was faster than I expected. A few hours ago, everyone had been talking about Anica. Now they were trying to find whoever had started the rumor.
Some people were accusing random students. Others were convinced it had to be someone close to her. That part made me uncomfortable.
I locked my phone and set it beside me, but picked it up again a few seconds later.
Adrian's statement was still on the screen. He hadn't defended himself much. He'd mostly separated what was known from what people had invented, then told everyone to leave Anica out of it.
I read that part twice. The rumor had already gone somewhere I hadn't expected.
I opened the comments again. People weren't talking about Anica anymore. They were looking for the person behind the photograph.
I stared at the screen for a moment before closing the app. Maybe that was what happened when you gave people one piece of information. Eventually, they started looking for the person who gave it to them.