Adam had just gotten up, alarmed by her loud "Ugh!" when she suddenly spoke again—mimicking him.
"Be careful, Snowflake… I'm there for you…"
Her voice dipped into a fake-deep tone, dramatic and playful.
Then came a chorus of her giggles.
"Oh god, I sound like a mafia boss or something…"
Adam froze, eyes wide, hand halfway to the door.
He couldn't decide whether to laugh, knock, or bury his face in a pillow from secondhand embarrassment. But one thing was certain—hearing her imitate him with such sweetness and sass made his chest warm in ways he didn't expect.
Meanwhile, Snowflake—completely unaware—was out of the bathroom now, wrapped in her cozy, chaotic vibe.
She plopped onto the fluffy couch, hair a beautiful, tangled mess, oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, plushies surrounding her like a loyal army, candy box hugged tight in her lap, and her teddy slippers tapping along to the anime's intro.
Eyes wide, she mouthed along with the characters.
Her wrist still ached, but right now, she was in her comfort zone—completely herself.
And behind the wall, Adam leaned back, smirking softly.
"She's chaos… sweet, sugar-fueled chaos…" he whispered to himself.
And for the first time in days, he let out a quiet laugh.
Adam pushed the door open gently, the soft creak barely louder than the anime still playing on the TV.
There she was—fast asleep, like a dream draped in candy wrappers and snuggled up with plushies. One arm lazily around a stuffed bunny, the candy box tipped slightly in her lap, lips parted just a little, hair covering half her face.
He couldn't help but smile.
"Snowflake…" he whispered softly, crouching near her.
No response.
He tried again, this time brushing a stray curl from her cheek.
"Dinner's ready…"
Still nothing—just a soft mumble and a sleepy squeeze around her plushie.
Adam chuckled quietly.
"This girl could sleep through a thunderstorm…"
He leaned a little closer and gently tapped her good wrist, barely a nudge.
"Wake up, sweet chaos. You're missing the best pasta in the city…"
This time she stirred—just a little—eyelids fluttering, murmuring,
"Hmmm… nooo... 5 more anime minutes…"
Adam laughed under his breath and shook his head.
"You're impossible."
But he didn't mind.
He stood up, grabbed a blanket, and gently covered her, turning off the TV with the remote beside her.
He whispered one last time before leaving the room,
"Sleep well, Snowflake. Your candy army's safe… and so are you."
Then he closed the door softly behind him, his heart much lighter than when he entered.
The loud thud made Adam's head snap up from his plate — eyes instantly narrowing at the sound.
Before he could move, the hallway echoed with laughter—not a cry, not a scream—just laughter.
That unmistakable, chaotic, contagious laughter.
Snowflake.
Jaciee came stumbling in first, holding her belly from laughing too hard, "She tripped off the bed again!" she managed between giggles.
And then Snowflake appeared — messy hair, one slipper missing, clutching her forehead dramatically with one hand and holding onto Jaciee with the other, still laughing.
Her cheeks were pink from laughter, not pain.
"Okay, okay! I'm awake now!" she announced to the table like she was accepting an award.
Adam stood halfway without realizing, eyes scanning her — forehead slightly red, but that smile… that alive sparkle in her eyes.
He exhaled softly, sat back down, and muttered under his breath with a smirk,
"This girl will be the death of me."
One of the boys leaned to Dave and whispered,
"He's totally whipped."
Dave just grinned and replied,
"Finally."
Snowflake took the seat next to Adam, grinning as she placed her elbow on the table and rested her bruised head dramatically.
"Sir Adam, my kingdom for an ice pack?"
Adam looked at her with a raised brow and said with the softest smirk,
"You'll get an ice pack… and shoes with brakes."
Laughter erupted again at the table — the warmth, the teasing, the unspoken family finally forming around the most unexpected bond — the Mafia King and his Chaos Queen.
Snowflake's eyes widened like a child in a candy store as the plate of pancakes stacked perfectly, topped with a swirl of whipped cream, fresh strawberries, and a drizzle of maple syrup, was placed before her.
She gasped.
"Did Jaciee make this?" she asked, fork halfway to her mouth.
Adam, smug and calm, leaned back slightly and said,
"Nope."
She blinked.
"Wait—YOU?"
Adam nodded once. "Only for special occasions. Like the first dinner with someone who breaks into laughter after tripping and bruising her head."
The boys clapped in mock applause.
Dave raised his glass. "To Snowflake. The only person who made him cook."
She looked around dramatically, placing a hand on her chest.
"An honour. Truly. Pancakes by the Mafia King? I might faint again."
Adam rolled his eyes, but the side of his lips curled.
She took a bite. Her eyes closed as she mumbled,
"Okay... fine. I'm keeping you."
The table burst into laughter, and Adam tried hiding his blush behind his glass of juice.
"Let's dig in," he finally said, voice low but soft, looking only at her.
And the evening continued… warm lights, laughter, teasing—
A dinner full of love, pasta, and pancakes made by a man who once ruled in silence but now lived for every sound she made.