In love with my brother's wife

As I flip through the worn pages of my old diary, her memory crashes into me like a wave I thought I'd outrun.

I stopped writing about her two years ago, but I never stopped thinking about her.

I remember everything about her. Her blue eyes. Her pale skin. The way her voice softened when she said my name, it was just beautiful. Her smile hid more than it revealed. Her dimples. I miss her a lot.

They say time heals all wounds, well they lied. Because here I am, years later, still bleeding inside.

When Mum called last week, her voice was full of obligation.

"Your brother's getting married. Everyone will be there. You have no excuse this time."

I haven't been home in years, not since that night.

Not since her.

Even now, with everything I've built, the CEO of my own company, a sleek apartment in Paris, a name people respect, there's a knot in my stomach at the thought of going back. Not because of Sam. But because of her.

A part of me longs to see her. To touch her. To know if any part of her still remembers the boy who once gave her his heart.

I shut the diary and placed it on the nightstand. The past was suffocating me again.

Stepping outside, I grab a cup of coffee from the cafe down the street, hoping the bitter taste will ground me. The wedding is in two weeks. Part of me still can't believe Sam of all people is getting married first.

He's always been the golden boy on the surface, the reckless one underneath. A serial heartbreaker. The kind of man who never stayed long enough to love anyone properly.

And yet, he found someone. Or at least, someone said yes.

We don't speak much these days, but I can't lie, I'm curious. Who is she? What kind of woman tamed my brother?

The past week flew by, and I finally made up my mind. I was going to face my fears and attend Sam's wedding. What's the worst that could happen?

I spent the days leading up to it preparing quietly, avoiding calls from family, and telling myself it was just one day. I booked a ticket for the first flight out that morning, and in a few hours, I'll be home, for the first time in seven years.

The plan is simple: show up early, make an appearance, congratulate the happy couple, and come up with a solid excuse to leave the same day. Some urgent business in Europe, maybe. It shouldn't be that hard to pull off.

But the one thing I didn't plan for, Lily.

God, I hope I don't run into her. Because I wouldn't know what to say.

I've grown. I've built a life for myself. But when it comes to Lily, I'm still that boy who was terrified of not being good enough for her.

And somehow, she's the only person I want to be perfect for.

I arrived at the venue just as the ceremony was going on. Everyone was already seated, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. I could hear the bride and groom already exchanging vows as I moved quietly down the aisle. I slipped into a seat in the middle row, careful not to draw any attention to myself.

But she noticed me, my mother.

Sitting in the second row in front, she turned her head towards me, it was almost instinctively, her eyes meeting mine with a soft smile. She always had something like a sixth sense when it came to me. Ever since I was a boy, we'd shared that unspoken bond.

I smiled back, then let my gaze drift toward the front.

The vows were being exchanged, voices trembling with emotion. The entire room sat in still silence, caught up in the moment. I could barely see the couple from where I was seated, until the bride turned to face the congregation.

And in that instant, everything stopped. Sam was getting married to Lily. My Lily.

The room spun. My breath caught in my throat. My heartbeat was loud enough to drown out every vow, every whisper, every prayer. I stared at her, frozen, as her eyes met mine, and widened in disbelief.

What was she doing here? And why was she marrying Sam?

I felt something inside me crack wide open.

Without thinking, I stood and walked out.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

I didn't wait for the ceremony to end. I didn't wait for answers. I just left. Because sometimes the truth hurts more than the silence.