I had a secret, messy romance with my stepmother’s son. The breakup was a disaster. Later, he got drunk, cornered me in the bathroom, and growled: "I guess I’m just a masochist. I want us to torture each other until we’re both old and gray. What are you going to do about it?" 1 As Christmas approached, I delayed as long as I could. Finally, under my father’s threats and bribes, I bought a plane ticket home. When I landed, Caleb was there to pick me up. This was our first time seeing each other since the breakup. In six months, he had changed. The boy who used to only wear light hoodies now wore a sharp, tailored black suit. Lean waist, long legs, a chiseled jawline, and a vacant expression. He looked cold, elite, and completely untouchable. "Hey, big brother..." I called out, my voice tight. He gave me a frigid glance. "Call me by my name. I don't want to be your brother." We broke up, so we can't even be family anymore? I didn't say a word, following him silently to the car. Sitting at the dinner table later, waiting for the food to be served, Caleb suddenly reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. He looked at the row of sparkling studs in my ear and let out a soft, dry laugh. "Seven piercings. You really aren't afraid of pain, are you?" I bit my lip, my eyes stinging. To hide my face, I took a frantic gulp of my soda, only to choke on it. I ended up coughing until tears ran down my face. Karma is a bitch. Caleb watched me the whole time, his eyes as deep and dark as a well. He let my embarrassment hang in the air, exposed. Maybe I was being too sensitive, but I thought I saw a flash of contempt in his eyes. That holiday dinner felt like sitting on a bed of nails. I felt like a fish bone was stuck in my throat. Something was wrong. It wasn't until that night, when Caleb knocked on my bedroom door with his dark mood on full display, that I realized what the problem was—Caleb hated me. He was radiating pure, unadulterated aggression. "Maya Miller, your life is a mess, isn't it?" he said. "You're imagining things. I'm incredibly happy. My boyfriend treats me like a queen," I shot back. "Another boyfriend?" Caleb’s eyes darkened. He paused. "Who is he? Bring him around so I can check him out. Your taste in men has always been garbage. You can't tell the difference between a good guy and a used car salesman." "Bringing him home counts as 'meeting the parents.' Are you that eager to see me get married and move out of this house?" I countered. Our gazes locked in a silent war for a long time. Finally, Caleb took a step back. "Then we’ll meet in public. When are you setting it up?" "He's very busy. I'll talk to him and let you know." My tone was arrogant. In front of Caleb, I was used to playing the role of the spoiled, fearless brat. But Caleb wasn't going to coddle me anymore. He let out a cold snort and whispered, "Fine. Let's see how much better this guy is than your ex." 2 When I was very young, I accepted a hard truth. If a child loses her mother, she essentially loses her home. So, when I was twelve and Caleb and his mother moved in, I wasn't repulsed. I was actually relieved. The day I dreaded had finally come, and I didn't have to live in fear of the "unknown" anymore. If it wasn't them, it would have been someone else. My father was always going to become someone else's husband and someone else's father. I didn't know if understanding this so early made me mature or just cynical. I just knew it. I also knew that Caleb was gorgeous. Getting on his good side meant I had a handsome "brother" to show off, making all my boy-crazy friends follow me like loyal subjects. Caleb was three years older than me—quiet, introverted, and a man of few words. After becoming my brother, he didn't have a single day of peace. During my teenage years, my rebellion hit like a hurricane. I was constantly looking for trouble. One day I was "defending" a friend from a rival; the next, I was playing backup for a fight. Caleb was terrified I'd get hurt, so he followed me everywhere. If I couldn't win a fight, he’d jump in. If I was winning, he’d sit on the sidelines, doing his honors-level homework and reviewing his SATs. Once, after a particularly nasty brawl, we both came home bruised and battered. My dad, half-drunk and seeing me looking like a mess, immediately assumed Caleb had hit me. He didn't see that Caleb was also covered in bruises, mostly on his torso. That day, my dad hit Caleb hard. "Protecting" me. Caleb wasn't even angry. He actually comforted me afterward: "Your dad is still your dad. You’ll always be his favorite." The truth was, when my dad misunderstood, I had intentionally stayed silent. I didn't explain. I wanted to test my father to see what he would do. I didn't expect Caleb to see right through my petty, mean-spirited plan. I was shocked and ashamed. I rolled my eyes at him and hissed, "Your dad is dead, so you came here to steal mine. Now you know you lost, right? In this house, you’ll always be an outsider." Caleb turned around and didn't say another word. It took a while for it to sink in just how toxic I was being. From that day on, my feelings for Caleb shifted into something subtle and strange. In the past, no matter how nice he was to me, I was indifferent. Because my dad was so good to his mother, I felt his kindness was just a way of paying a debt. It didn't deserve my gratitude. But I had forgotten—if my dad was so good to his mother, it meant I was the one being pushed out of their perfect family unit. When I was twenty, in college, I had a brief, impulsive relationship. Within ten days, the guy cheated on me three times. Truly impressive. In the middle of the night, I called Caleb in a fit of rage and grief. I ended up falling asleep while cursing the guy out. When I woke up, my roommate told me my brother was waiting downstairs. I ran out of the dorm and saw that lean, tall silhouette standing in the blinding morning sun. I went to grab his arm, but he used his height advantage to press his palm against my forehead, keeping me at a distance. Caleb: "Who gave you permission to date?" Me: "Everyone in my dorm is dating. I wanted to try it too." He took a deep, heavy breath. "If you wanted to try it, you could have told me." Told you? For what? Before the words could leave my mouth, he pulled me into a crushing embrace. It was like the clouds suddenly parted. I could hear my own heartbeat racing out of rhythm, my face burning. Back then, I was too slow to realize Caleb loved me. I only realized that I was harborous "traitorous" thoughts about him. It was just one hug, but in my head, I had already rehearsed our entire wedding and a lifetime together. Young, hormonal girls can't control their "evil" impulses. That's how I justified it to myself later. It took three months of "Good morning," "Good luck with your exam," and "Goodnight" texts before he finally broke the tension and made it official. "We can't let the family know," I told him solemnly that day. "But every single one of your colleagues and friends needs to know I'm your girlfriend." During the two years we were together, he was perfect. He listened to me, gave me everything I wanted. The grand gestures, the constant sharing, the attention to every little detail—he checked every box. But I was terrified. I felt like a disaster was coming, that this couldn't last. Until the day I saw a beautiful, wealthy colleague of his confess her love to him. That was when I surrendered. That evening, I walked barefoot along the riverbank and made a decision: Forget it, Maya. Don't ruin his chance at a normal life. You're petty, you're not that pretty, and you have a temper. You're not good for him. Plus, you're technically his sister. This path only gets harder. I don't even understand my own psychology. Instead of a mature breakup, I decided to destroy everything. I said the most vicious, disgusting things I could think of to hurt him. "Maya, please don't do this. I'll quit. I'll find a new job. I won't ever have to see her again." Caleb’s submissive, broken tone made me feel so ashamed I couldn't breathe. I was a horrible person. I knew it, but my face remained a mask of cold indifference. After the breakup, I got a row of ear piercings. It hurt. They got infected. It hurt more. But I felt a sick sense of relief. Pain was a way to heal. Sometimes, I would intentionally seek out physical pain just so I wouldn't feel so alone, so my longing wouldn't swallow me whole. Caleb would never know that. "Seven piercings. You really aren't afraid of pain, are you?" Caleb... do you really think I'm not afraid? 3 My first night back was a nightmare. I dreamt of chaotic, painful fragments. I felt like my mind was wide awake, but my body was paralyzed, unable to wake up. I slept for over ten hours, yet I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. My stepmother, Elena, asked if I was feeling sick. I nodded. "I feel a bit nauseous." The second the words left my mouth, Caleb shot me a lethal glare from across the room. "Nauseous?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. He marched over to me, looking like he wanted to skin me alive. "What other symptoms?" My stomach did a somersault. I couldn't answer; I just dashed for the bathroom. When I came out, Caleb was gone. Elena handed me a glass of warm water, her eyes searching mine. "Maya... did you and Caleb have a falling out?" "Maybe... I don't know," I replied. Fifteen minutes later, Caleb came bursting through the front door, breathless. Ignoring his mother, he grabbed my arm, dragged me into his room, and slammed the door. My heart was hammering against my ribs. "Are you crazy?!" I hissed. Caleb shoved something into my hands. "Go. Now." I looked down. It was a pregnancy test. I didn't know whether to be angry or laugh. He thought I was pregnant? Did he even care if I was? Prompted by a sliver of hope, I decided to test him. "There's nothing to check. If I'm pregnant, I'll just keep it." "Maya Miller, when did you become such a disaster?" Caleb stared at me, his eyes overflowing with disappointment. I’ve known him for years. I’ve seen him in every mood. But I had never seen him look so helpless, so utterly defeated. That "exclusivity" gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction, even as it made me feel small. The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the hallway. A second later, the door flew open. "You're pregnant?!" My dad, his face bright red, charged into the room. Elena was right behind him, looking terrified. I instinctively tried to hide the pregnancy test, but to my dad, it looked like a confession of guilt. He roared, his hand flying up to slap me. But before it could land, Caleb caught his wrist. "You are not allowed to touch her." The words "not allowed" made both my father and Elena gasp. "Caleb! How can you talk to your father like that?" Elena looked at her son in shock. Caleb let go of my dad's hand. He stood in front of me, a silent, immovable shield. Elena tried to play the peacemaker. "Let's all calm down. We're a family; we can talk this out. Robert, Maya, you two need a proper heart-to-heart." A family? Looking at them, they looked like a perfect family of three. I was just the intruder, the one who ruined their harmony. "I wish Maya was even half as sensible as Caleb," my dad’s voice from a conversation I overheard last night echoed in my head. "I’ve spent my life serving her mother, and now I’m stuck serving her. It's a curse." I smiled, dropped the pregnancy test on the floor, and stepped out from behind Caleb. "I'm not pregnant. I won't embarrass you. Believe whatever you want." I walked out without looking back, done with their judgment. "Maya! What kind of attitude is that?" my dad screamed after me. "If you ever do get pregnant out of wedlock, don't you dare come back to this house!" It seemed that in front of his new wife, my dad was extra focused on his "manhood," refusing to let his authority be questioned. When I was little, I didn't understand that. I took a lot of hits for it. But now, I didn't care. When you realize someone isn't worth your heart, everything they do becomes white noise. 4 The second I stepped outside, the bone-chilling wind hit me from all directions. I stood in the snow, still shaking from the humiliation, when I saw Caleb chasing after me. He was wearing a black parka, the bottom half of his face buried in a thick fur collar, leaving only his cold, sharp eyes visible. In his arms, he held a plush "Patrick Star" hand warmer—something that completely clashed with his vibe. He walked up and shoved the hand warmer into my arms. "Go home. It's cold." I shook my head. "Caleb... take me somewhere. I don't want to be alone." We drove for hours until we reached a quiet cemetery. The sun was setting, the sky a heavy gray. Caleb and I sat in front of a headstone. It was peaceful here. Just rows and rows of silent stone. "I told your mom everything," I said, a faint smile on my lips. "Including us." Caleb’s nose was red from the cold, making him look unusually vulnerable. He turned to me, his lashes fluttering. "So... why did you really break up with me?" Why? Pride and love were a toxic mix. Reality and dreams were pulling in opposite directions. I was trapped in the middle, and I eventually just broke. But I couldn't tell him the truth—I love you, but I'm terrified of hurting you. I love you, and that makes me dangerous. "I couldn't see a future for us. I didn't want to waste any more time. I wanted an easy life," I said flatly. He didn't reply. He just stared at my mother’s headstone. "Did you know? My mom cut off her entire family to marry my dad. Her 'epic' love story lasted less than three years before it turned into mutual loathing. And then, your mom came along and effortlessly got all the tenderness my mom spent her life begging for." I looked into the distance and sighed. I had never told anyone that. When I was a kid, I hated my mom for being selfish, for leaving me alone and choosing death. But as I grew up and saw the world for what it was, I started to understand her pain. Just a little bit. On the drive back, I rested my head against the window, watching the world blur by. At a red light, a hand suddenly gripped mine. "Let’s get married." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. It felt like a needle had pierced my heart. I yanked my hand away, shrinking into the passenger seat, my body tense. "Are you insane?" Then, a thought struck me. I added, "I have a boyfriend." Caleb pulled his hand back, his expression turning to stone as he stared at the road ahead. The car was silent. I looked away from him, my heart racing. If someone chose me with such reckless, unwavering conviction, I think I would crumble. But that kind of luck doesn't happen to girls like me. Or maybe, I just didn't believe I was a stable enough person to handle it. I knew I wasn't. That night, I was on the balcony smoking. The city lights were a blur. Through the glass, I could see them inside, a "happy family" chatting. Elena walked onto the balcony. Her usual gentle expression was replaced by something heavy. "Maya, can we talk?" I felt a cold pit in my stomach. She knew. 5 "I’ve arranged a date for Caleb. She’s a PhD student who just got back from Europe. Like Caleb, she’s been a high-achiever since she was a kid. She’s poised, well-bred... and most importantly, she comes from a very stable, happy family. She’s a very healthy, whole person." She was a brilliant woman. With just a few words, she had effectively shredded my soul. I struggled in school. I wasn't particularly pretty. I wasn't poised or well-bred. And "a healthy, whole person"? That hit like a freight train. I stood in the shadows, hoping she couldn't see the shame and devastation on my face. Elena continued, "Caleb refuses to see her. Maya, can you help me think of something?" "What do you want me to do?" I asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Just talk to him. Tell him a girl like that is a rare find. It would be a shame to miss out." She patted my hand affectionately. A rare find... I repeated her words in my head and almost laughed. "I have a girlfriend." Caleb’s voice cut through the air. I turned and saw him standing there, his eyes like ice. He walked over, tossed the Patrick Star hand warmer into my lap, and stared at his mother. "Once I’ve convinced her to stay, I’m going to marry her." The air felt like it was freezing. After a long pause, Elena looked at me with a forced smile. "Maya, do you know who his girlfriend is?" "No idea." I made the choice without a second's hesitation. Elena let out a long sigh of relief, her first genuine smile of the night appearing. "I’ll go cut some fruit. You two chat." When we were alone, neither of us spoke. We just stared into the dark. Then, my phone rang. "Maya, babe, did you miss me?" The night was so quiet that Caleb heard every word. I saw his shoulders go rigid. "Yeah," I replied. Caleb turned and walked away instantly, like something was chasing him. Watching his back, the tears I’d been holding back all night finally fell. If he had turned around, he would have seen my pathetic lie—that I was falling apart, and I was only using this "boyfriend" as a shield for my pride. I’m usually not that patient, but tonight I stayed on the phone with the caller for a long time. I needed a distraction. Any distraction. "Maya, I hate the holidays," the person on the other end said. "Funny," I replied. "Me too." After I went back inside, Elena cornered me with a plate of fruit. "So Maya, when do we get to meet your boyfriend?" "In no rush," I mumbled. I made an excuse and left the house, heading to a local dive bar. Surrounded by smoke and noise, I drank and ate, trying to fill the hole in my chest. It didn't work. On my way to the restroom, I tripped. Just as my face was about to meet the floor, a hand caught me and pulled me into a chest that smelled like fresh rain. In the dim light, I saw Caleb’s worried face. I broke. The alcohol let the dam burst, and I sobbed. I was a giant balloon that had finally popped. He held me tight, letting me vent everything. Afterward, I splashed cold water on my face at the sink. I looked in the mirror and saw a numb, hollow face. How did I end up like this? a voice in my head asked. "Let's go home," Caleb whispered beside me. I ignored him, still staring at the mirror. "Let's go to our home," he said firmly. That night, maybe because of the alcohol, I slept like a baby. In my dream, I was SpongeBob. I asked, "Patrick, why are you named Patrick?" And Patrick looked at me and said, "Because I was sent by God to be the star that protects you." It was a childish dream, but it was a real memory from my childhood. I woke up the next morning at 10 AM. I rubbed my pounding head and looked around at the unfamiliar room. Where was I? Did Caleb sell me? 6 In the open-concept kitchen, Caleb was focused on cooking. The morning sun hit his profile perfectly. Everything looked like a movie scene. I didn't even dare to breathe too loudly. After a while, Caleb turned around. He looked at me and said seriously, "You have sleep in your eye." And just like that, the magic was gone. I glared at him. "Stay out of my business." Caleb nodded solemnly and went back to the stove. "Whatever. I love you no matter how you look." Wait... Was he flirting? During our two years together, he was a man of action, rarely using "magic attacks" like this. Back then, if I tried to act cute, he’d push me away and tell me to speak normally. I sat at the table waiting for food. Caleb set a bowl down and said casually, "You slept in my arms last night. If your boyfriend finds out, he won't be mad, will he?" I froze. In his arms? "What did you do to me?" Caleb stopped and looked at me with a look of pure, unblemished hurt, accusing me of being heartless. I swallowed hard. "Did I... do something to you?" He suddenly reached out and gently ruffled my hair. For a second, I felt like we were back in our relationship. "Caleb, where are we?" I asked, trying to break the spell. He spooned some porridge for me. "Our future home." What? His pupils contracted slightly. "I started planning this before you even brought up the breakup." I couldn't look at him. I just focused on the porridge. It was hot. It burned my throat. It felt like it was burning my whole soul. "Maya," he said, crouching down to be eye-level with me. "Do you even love me?" His voice sounded like it was on the verge of cracking. I tried to stand up and run, but he caught me. "You're just fighting with yourself. I'll make it okay. You can come back." "Caleb, don't do this to yourself," I rasped. If he hated me, I could handle it. But I couldn't handle this—him being heartbroken and still trying to wipe my tears. "Love is just getting trapped over and over," Caleb said. "Don't give up on me." "Caleb, I didn't give up on you. I gave up on myself." I didn't think I deserved beautiful things. My whole life was a series of losses. Losing my mom, losing my dad, losing my dignity, losing my trust... I had even lost myself. "Then I’ll be the person who never gives up on you." For a long time, my brain went white. My body was shaking. By the time I found my voice, he was already kissing me. It was aggressive. Fierce. A kiss that felt like it would never end. Before my brain could catch up, my body had already given him the answer.
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