"I've decided to come back home and get married," I told my brother, Ryan.
I said yes because I needed an escape. Because I was pregnant with twins. Because I had to protect them—from Jake, from the lies, from all of it.
My brother's voice came through the phone, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that. You’ve been in Paris for three years now, chasing your dreams. Mom and Dad were starting to think you’d found a reason to stay there forever. It's good to know you're coming back."
The words hit me with a mix of warmth and weight.
Three years.
I thought back to when I left everything behind to follow Jake to France. At the time, it had felt right—irresistibly right. I was supposed to be there to study fashion design, fully supported by my parents, proud heiress of a legacy brand. But the truth was, I hadn’t just gone abroad for school.
I had followed Jake.
Ryan's best friend and business partner. The golden boy. The one everyone trusted. No one—especially Ryan—knew that behind the scenes, Jake and I had become something more. We shared a bed. We shared secrets. We shared a love neither of us was brave enough to claim in daylight.
Jake had made me promise to keep it hidden. He said it was to protect our future, to avoid shaking things with Ryan or their startup. And I—so hopelessly in love—had agreed. I told myself the secrecy meant he cared enough to be cautious. That one day, we’d be public. Real. Seen.
Ryan’s voice pulled me out of the memory. “Don’t worry, the guy Mom and Dad picked for you is a catch. He’s got everything—looks, manners, character. You’ll be happy with him.”
He didn’t mention a name, and I noticed he quickly changed the subject. “By the way, you should reach out to Jake. He’s still in Paris. You used to call him ‘brother,’ right? He should definitely come to the wedding. I haven’t heard from him in a few days, though. He’s been tough to reach.”
A familiar unease settled in my chest.
Of course, Jake had been hard to reach.
It had all started when Lila came back into the picture.
Lila—his first love. His greatest love.
I hesitated, the words not coming easily. "He… he might not make it to the wedding…"
"What wedding?"
Before I could explain, I heard a voice from the doorway. It was Jake. I hurriedly turned off the call. He walked in like nothing was wrong—like the kiss I saw yesterday in the park hadn’t happened. Like he and Lila weren’t standing there, lips locked, lost in each other, as if I didn’t exist.
"Who’s getting married?" he asked again, his voice light, arms still around me like we were fine. Like we were still us.
I leaned into the hug just enough to sell the lie. “J-just a friend,” I said, forcing a small smile. “No big deal.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of my head like he always did. "You should wear that blue dress. You looked unreal the last time you wore it."
I laughed softly, even though my chest felt hollow. "Yeah. Maybe."
He pulled away to drop onto the couch, scrolling through his phone like we weren’t both pretending. Like the taste of Lila wasn’t still probably on his lips.
“I’m starving,” he said after a beat, glancing up at me with that boyish grin that used to melt me.
I pushed up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. “I’ll make something.”
He followed me, as usual. Always did when he wanted to play the sweet boyfriend. His presence was so familiar it hurt. He leaned against the counter, stealing sips of whatever I was drinking, sneaking bites when I turned my back, acting like everything was completely normal.
I served him a plate—his favorite, out of habit. He beamed like a kid, sitting down to eat like he hadn’t just shattered me yesterday.
“God, you spoil me,” he said between bites. “How’d I get so lucky?”
I didn’t answer. I smiled softly, nodding like I agreed, like I was still here, still his. But in my head, everything was already packed.
Eat, Jake. Enjoy it. Because after this, you won’t see me again.
I’m going home. I’m marrying someone else. I’m done trying to fix something you never fought for.
I’ve been holding onto this relationship like it was a lifeline, but all it ever did was drown me.
Across the table, Jake looked up and smiled again, clueless.
“I love nights like this,” he said, mouth full, eyes warm. “Just you and me.”
I smiled back. Not anymore.
