Engaged to my childhood enemy - A sonamy story

Chapter Four: Cupcakes

The night had settled in by the time Rouge left, and the house had never felt quieter. Amy sat in the guest room, curled up on a plush armchair with a blanket wrapped around her. The opening credits of Game of Thrones flickered on the TV screen, but she barely paid attention, her mind wandering. She glanced at the clock—8 p.m. Sonic still wasn't home.

Amy scowled and turned up the volume a little more, trying to drown out her own thoughts. Why should I care when he gets home? It's not like we're a real couple.

Meanwhile, Sonic pulled into the driveway, the earlier rush from a successful merger meeting already fading. Hedgehog Holdings had scored another big win, and it should've been a good day. But as he turned off the car, the thought of walking into the house—into this new reality with Amy waiting inside—left him with a strange, uncomfortable feeling.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, immediately greeted by the warm, sweet scent of something freshly baked. For a second, the tension in his shoulders eased, but the moment passed quickly. It's Amy, he remembered. Of course.

He made his way through the house and found her where he expected: sitting in the guest room, a cozy blanket wrapped around her, staring at the TV like he didn't exist. "Game of Thrones, huh?" he remarked, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

Amy jumped slightly, clearly not expecting him. "Chaos, don't you knock?" she grumbled, turning her head just enough to give him a withering look. She tossed the blanket aside, her eyes locking back on the screen. "Don't you have your own room?"

Sonic chuckled, stepping further into the room, not caring about her obvious annoyance. "This is a guest room. I can be here if I want." He cast a glance at the screen, recognizing the episode. "Didn't think you'd be into something like this."

Amy shot him a sideways glance. "What, violence and political scheming? I'd think you'd know better by now."

Sonic raised an eyebrow, sensing the bite in her tone. "Touché," he muttered. His eyes drifted to the coffee table, spotting a plate of cupcakes. Red velvet. His favorite. Without waiting for an invitation, he grabbed one.

"Excuse you?" Amy snapped, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he bit into the cupcake.

Sonic paused mid-chew. He hated to admit it, but the taste was incredible. He tried to keep a neutral expression, but Amy didn't miss the flash of approval on his face.

"Amazing, right?" Amy teased, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she crossed her arms.

Sonic swallowed quickly, shrugging like it didn't matter. "They're fine," he muttered, avoiding her smug gaze.

Amy rolled her eyes, turning back to the TV. "Sure, Hedgehog. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Silence settled between them, the sounds of Game of Thrones filling the room. Sonic lingered a moment longer than he should've before heading upstairs to change out of his work clothes. He tried to brush off the strange energy between them—the small moments of banter that made things feel oddly normal.

After a quick shower, Sonic found himself gravitating back downstairs, drawn by the distant sound of the TV. He told himself it wasn't because of Amy, but he knew better. As he entered the room, he noticed her in the same position, another cupcake in hand.

He cleared his throat. "Seriously? Do you always watch TV this loud?"

Amy barely looked at him, unbothered. "It's called immersion. You should try it."

Sonic narrowed his eyes, feeling the tension simmering again. "Well, it's annoying."

Amy shot him a look, her patience clearly thinning. "And so are you."

Sonic let out a sharp laugh. "Nice. Real mature."

"Hey, at least I'm not the one barging in here like I own the place," Amy quipped, finally meeting his gaze. Her words were casual, but the edge in her tone was unmistakable.

"You practically do," Sonic shot back. "I mean, you're taking over this whole house."

"Because I'm actually here," Amy countered, her voice rising slightly. "Unlike you. You come home and act like I'm some invader in your precious space."

Sonic's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. "It's not about space, Amy. It's about you acting like we're supposed to play house."

Amy stood, the blanket slipping off her shoulders as she faced him. "I'm not asking for anything, Sonic. I'm just trying to live here without you making it miserable."

"Miserable?" Sonic's voice dripped with frustration. "I barely even see you! How am I making anything miserable?"

Amy's eyes flashed with anger. "It's the fact that you don't care! You walk in here, eat my food, criticize everything, and expect me to just—what? Pretend like this is normal?"

Sonic threw his hands up in frustration. "It's not normal! And it's never going to be, so stop acting like this is anything other than what it is—a deal."

Amy's heart pounded in her chest. She hated how easily he got under her skin, how his words stung even when she knew they were true. "Fine," she said coldly. "If that's how you feel, then stay in your perfect little world. I'll stay out of your way."

"Great," Sonic snapped back. "Maybe we'll both get some peace."

Amy turned on her heel, grabbing the blanket and tossing it back over her shoulder as she stormed toward the couch. "Good. I'm staying down here tonight. That way, you don't have to worry about me 'invading your space.'"

Sonic stood there, watching as she curled up on the couch again, her back to him. He wanted to say something else, anything to get the last word, but the look on her face stopped him. Instead, he turned and walked upstairs, his footsteps heavy as he headed to his room. Once there, he slammed the door, leaning against it with a deep sigh.

Why does she always get to me?

Downstairs, Amy lay on the couch, staring at the TV but barely seeing it. Her heart was still racing from the argument, and her mind wouldn't stop replaying his words. She hated how much he could still affect her. She hated that, in some twisted way, she'd wanted him to sit and watch the show with her.

For a moment—just a brief moment—it had felt almost normal.