No one knew the secret I kept for seven years: that I shared a bed with my stepsister, Zoey. She was fast asleep when her phone lit up the nightstand. Curiosity got the better of me. I picked it up, my thumb swiping across the screen, and saw the chat she’d left open with her best friend. “Still keeping up the act? You actually planning on marrying your stepbrother?” “Wasn’t the plan always to get revenge on the son of that homewrecker?” The last message was from Zoey, sent just an hour ago. “If I don’t drag it out, how can I make him suffer more?” I reached for the bottle of wine on the nightstand and poured myself three glasses, one after the other. My gaze fell on Zoey’s sleeping form, a silent toast echoing in my mind. The first glass was for my own foolish heart, for falling for you when I knew it was impossible. The second, for the beautiful lie you lived. For the way you stayed with me, comforted me, and cooked for me whenever our parents were away. And the third glass was for this moment. For the day I choose to stop loving you. 1 “Mom, I’ll do it. I’ll agree to the marriage alliance.” I paused, then added, “Can we… can we not tell Zoey about it just yet?” “Of course,” she said, her voice soft as she handed me a glass of milk. “Take this up to your sister.” I took the glass and walked straight to her bedroom. When Zoey took the milk from me, her fingers brushed against mine, a light touch that sent a jolt through me, nearly making me drop the glass. A slow smile spread across her face as she pushed me back onto the bed, her body following mine down. Her lips were about to meet mine. I turned my head away. “Zoey, Mom and Dad are home. They’ll see.” She leaned in, her lips finding the curve of my neck, and gave my Adam’s apple a sharp, possessive bite. “Then you’d better be good to me,” she whispered, her voice a playful purr. “Come with me to the office.” The city blurred past the car window. I watched the familiar streets give way to an unfamiliar route and finally spoke up. “This isn’t the way to Dawson Corp.” “Nope,” she said, a smirk in her voice. “Picking someone up.” The car slowed to a stop in front of a luxury apartment building—Landon Vance’s place. “Wait here. I’ll go get him.” “Okay.” The silence in the car was heavy. Zoey shot me a strange look. “Not jealous?” Why would I be? The old me would have bristled at the thought of her even talking to another guy. I would have sulked, given her the cold shoulder, made my jealousy obvious. But that was the old me. Now, having decided to let her go, what was the point? “Go on, Zoey. I get it. It’s for the company.” My encouragement seemed to throw her off. A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes before she got out of the car. An hour crawled by. The sun beat down on the car, turning the inside into an oven. I felt dizzy, dehydrated, on the verge of passing out. I tried calling her, but my calls went straight to voicemail. Just as the world started to swim before my eyes, the doors to the building opened. Landon emerged, holding Zoey’s hand. He casually walked over and opened the passenger side door. “Sorry for the wait, Ash,” he said with a lazy grin, wiggling the fingers of his left hand to show off a new ring. “Your sister insisted we try on engagement rings.” He gestured to the back seat. “Hey, mind taking the back?” I was too weak to move, my head spinning. Zoey must have mistaken my stillness for a jealous pout. She didn’t even look at me. “Landon, just pull him out.” His grip was strong. He hauled me out of the seat, and I stumbled, catching myself just before I fell. “Landon just wanted to ride shotgun, and you couldn’t even give him that?” Zoey’s voice was cold. “Find your own way to the office.” With that, she sped off, her eyes fixed on me in the rearview mirror. I didn’t go to the office. I went straight home. The moment I walked through the door, my strength gave out, and I collapsed onto the sofa. I drifted in a feverish haze until I felt a familiar weight settle against me. Zoey snuggled into my arms, her lips forming a pout. “Ash,” she murmured, her voice thick with fake grievance. “Your mom said you broke up with your girlfriend.” Her hand toyed with a button on my shirt. “You should probably tell your mom when exactly we broke up. Because I certainly don’t remember it. Or… do you have another girlfriend I don’t know about?” She wrapped her arms around my neck, her face drawing close for a kiss. I turned away again. “Zoey, I don’t feel well.” Her hand flew to my forehead. “You’re burning up.” Gently, she helped me to my feet and guided me to my bed, tucking me in with a familiar tenderness. She retrieved a cooling patch from the bathroom, her movements practiced and sure as she tore it open and placed it gently on my forehead. Then, she brought a glass of warm water and some pills, carefully helping me take them. “I’ll stay with you, Ash.” She slipped under the covers beside me. Later, after her breathing had evened out into the rhythm of sleep, I reached out, my fingers tracing the outline of her face in the dim light. No one knew. My girlfriend was my stepsister, Zoey. 2 I tossed and turned, sleep refusing to come. My eyes fell on the glow of Zoey’s phone screen. After a moment’s hesitation, I reached for it. My birthday. That was her password. The screen unlocked. A few new messages from her friend popped up: “Zoey, the second Ashton gets a little sick, you ditch Landon and run right back to him.” “I don’t know, Z… sounds to me like you’re actually falling for him.” “Are you sure you’re still acting? You haven’t accidentally written yourself into the script?” Then I saw Zoey’s reply, and the words burned into my eyes. “Me? Love him? As if.” “It’s just an act. He’s the son of a homewrecker. He doesn’t deserve my love.” A tear I couldn’t control slid down my cheek and landed on the back of her hand, startling her awake. I shoved the phone back onto the nightstand, pretending to be asleep, my heart hammering against my ribs. Zoey’s eyes fluttered open. She saw the tear track on my face, and a flash of panic crossed her features. “Ash? What’s wrong? Are you crying? Does it hurt that bad?” I stared at her, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, but another tear escaped. She pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” “Don’t be mad, okay?” Her voice softened, a practiced, soothing melody she’d used on me a hundred times before. “You know Dad is pushing for this engagement with Landon. It’s just business.” She tilted her head. “And come on, all Landon wanted was the front seat. You’re not really that angry about it, are you?” “I’m not angry,” I whispered. It was the truth. I wasn’t angry. My heart was just… dead. She clearly didn’t believe me. “Yes, you are. You’re furious.” Her voice dropped to an intimate whisper. “You know I’ve only ever loved you these past seven years.” She played her trump card. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll go tell Mom and Dad right now. I’ll beg them to let us be together.” I shot up, grabbing her arm. “Don’t.” For seven years, this was how she won every argument. And every time, I’d caved, terrified of our parents finding out, terrified of the fallout. In everyone else’s eyes, we were brother and sister. But this time was different. My only goal was to keep this charade going until the day of my own marriage alliance. The day I could finally cut her out of my life for good. Seeing me back down, Zoey leaned in to kiss me. I recoiled instinctively. “I’m still sick. You’ll catch it.” She relented, settling for wrapping her arms around me again. Her embrace was warm, familiar, a place I had once called home. She murmured words of comfort, just as she always had. But this time, all I felt was a bitter cold spreading from the very core of my being. Zoey, I don’t want to love you anymore. 3 The next morning, voices from downstairs pulled me from a light, fitful sleep. I opened my eyes. The space beside me was empty. Zoey was already gone. I headed downstairs and found her sitting on the sofa, shoulder-to-shoulder with Landon. “Ashton, darling,” my mom said, her eyes finding mine. “Zoey’s engagement party is tomorrow. It’s perfect timing. You can attend before you leave.” Zoey’s head snapped up. “Leave? Where are you going?” “Oh, just a trip I planned with some friends,” I said quickly, shooting a look at my mom. “Mom, I’m gonna grab something to eat.” I was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of milk, when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Zoey’s chest pressed against my back. “Ash, don’t be mad.” “I’m not mad, Zoey,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. “I know you have your obligations.” Her hold on me faltered, her body stiffening in surprise at my placid response. “Ash, you—” “Ashton,” my mom’s voice called from the living room, “why don’t you go with Zoey and Landon to pick out their formal wear for the party?” I gently pushed Zoey away. “Mom, I think I’ll sit this one out. They don’t need a third wheel.” “Please come, Ash,” Zoey pleaded, her voice soft. “You can help me choose.” Landon chimed in, “Yeah, come on, man. We could use your opinion.” At the boutique, I found a secluded armchair in the corner and watched them from a distance. When Zoey emerged from the fitting room in a stunning champagne-colored gown, she and Landon looked like a picture-perfect couple. It was a scene I had imagined a thousand times, only in my dreams, I was the one standing beside her. While Zoey was changing into another outfit, Landon wandered over to me. “You haven’t picked out a suit for tomorrow, have you, Ash? Why don’t you try one on?” “That’s okay, I—” He cut me off, pressing a white tuxedo into my hands. “Just try it.” I changed and stepped out of the fitting room just as Zoey came out of the one next to me. Our eyes met, and her gaze lingered on me for a second too long. Suddenly, Landon’s voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. “Ash! What are you doing? That’s the suit I’m wearing tomorrow!” His voice rose, dripping with insinuation. “Are you trying to tell Zoey something? That you wish you were me?” The staff and other customers turned to stare. Gossip rippled through the onlookers. “Oh my god, is that her brother? That’s disgusting.” “He’s in love with his own sister? And he’s stealing her fiancé’s suit? How pathetic.” — Zoey’s face was a cold, emotionless mask. “Take it off,” she commanded. “And don’t ever do it again.” I didn’t say a word. I just turned, walked back into the fitting room, and changed back into my clothes. As I left, I saw Zoey nestled in Landon’s arms, murmuring, “Don’t be angry, Landon. It’s okay.” I ignored her for the rest of the day. That night, as I was walking past her room, she reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Ash, stop being angry.” She held up a garment bag. “I picked out another suit for you. A better one. Wear this tomorrow.” I pried her fingers off my wrist, one by one. “Zoey, you don’t have to.” “I have plans tomorrow,” I said, my voice flat. “I won’t be at your engagement party.” She must have thought I was just trying to avoid the pain of watching her with Landon, because her voice softened. “Okay. Just… give me some time.” Her hand reached for mine again. “It’s just an engagement, Ash. I’ll only ever marry you.” Hearing those words, I felt nothing. Not a flicker of hope, not a twinge of pain. Nothing. Zoey, I’m never going to marry you. 4 The next day, Zoey was long gone, already on her way to the Vance estate for her party. My mother sat on the edge of my bed, her eyes misty. “Turn around,” she said, her voice catching. “Let me have one last look at my son.” It finally hit me. This was real. I was leaving this house, this life. Not to marry Zoey, the girl I had loved for seven years, but a complete stranger. It was terrifying, but more than that, it was a profound relief. A clean break. The choice had been made. There was no going back. “Why the sudden change of heart?” she asked gently. “Why agree to go through with the alliance so soon? Did that girlfriend of seven years finally break your heart for good?” I looked down, hiding the tears that threatened to spill. “You know, I never liked her,” Mom continued. “Seven years, and she never once wanted to meet us. It never felt right. I’m glad you two are done.” She patted my shoulder. “Your uncle vetted this girl himself. She comes from a good family, has a good heart. Just… give her a chance. Try to build something real with her.” I forced a smile. “I will, Mom.” “Are you sure you don’t want to say goodbye to your sister?” she asked, her hand rubbing my back. “I’m sure,” I said, the words feeling final. My phone buzzed. A text from Zoey. [Ash, I won’t let Landon touch me. I promise.] [Ash, I wish it was you standing next to me today! It’s just not the right time yet.] I deleted the messages without a second thought and blocked her number. Goodbye, Zoey. A procession of black cars pulled up outside. My mother walked me to the door. A woman in a striking red dress stepped out of the lead Maybach. She walked toward me with an easy confidence and extended her hand. “Julia Reid. Your wife.” I hesitated for only a second before taking her hand in mine. Miles away, Zoey tried to call me. When she discovered she was blocked, a cold knot of panic formed in her stomach. “What’s wrong?” Landon asked. “Nothing,” she said, forcing the anxiety down. “Let’s go. To the hotel.” On the way, Zoey suddenly pointed at a decorated car in the opposite lane, part of a wedding procession. “Landon, look! A bridal convoy! I’ve heard of this new trend where couples exchange bouquets for good luck!” Before he could respond, she had rolled down her window, shouting across the median at us. “Hey! Let’s trade bouquets!” I looked up. Through the open window, I saw her face. Her excited smile froze, then crumbled. Zoey’s eyes widened in disbelief, her voice a choked whisper that barely carried across the asphalt. “Ash? What… what are you doing in that car?” “Ash, come back!”
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