That morning, Xander declared with far too much confidence, “I’m cooking.”
From the table, where Lyra sat cross-legged peeling an orange, she raised an eyebrow. “You? Last time you made eggs, the fire alarm cried.”
“That was sabotage. Kyson messed with the settings.”
Kyson, arms crossed, leaned against the counter with a smirk. “I wasn’t even in the house.”
“Exactly. Your absence is always suspicious.”
Despite the teasing, Xander set to work with dramatic flair — sleeves rolled up, hair a mess, whistling some tune under his breath as he cracked eggs and diced herbs like a man auditioning for a cooking show.
It started off well… and then it didn’t.
The smell of burning came fast and fierce.
“Oh no,” Lyra coughed, waving the smoke away. “What the hell, Xander?!”
Kyson stepped in lik
