He's Not My Brother

Chapter 2

The moving truck pulled away before Aria even got out of the car.

She stared up at the house.

White walls. Huge windows. A front door that probably cost more than a year of rent at her old place. Everything about it said money in a way her old life never had.

"It's a lot, I know," her dad said, killing the engine. "But you'll get used to it."

She didn't answer.

She was watching the front door, where a curtain in an upstairs window had just shifted.

Someone was watching them.

The door opened before they reached it. Victoria stepped out, smiling so wide it looked like it hurt.

"You must be Aria."

She pulled her into a hug before Aria could decide whether she wanted one. Jasmine and something expensive.

"I'm so happy you're here. Really."

"Thanks," Aria said, because what else was there to say.

Inside, the house smelled like fresh paint and flowers someone had clearly bought just for today. Everything was bright and open and too much. Too clean. Too big. Too perfect.

It didn't feel like a home. It felt like a place pretending to be one.

"Cayden!" Victoria called up the stairs. "Come say hi to Aria."

A pause.

Then footsteps. Slow. Unhurried. Like he had somewhere better to be and was choosing not to go there yet.

He came down the stairs in a gray hoodie, hair slightly messy, phone in one hand.

He looked up.

And Aria felt it before she understood it — that snag again, that same strange pull from the night she'd seen his photo. Up close it was worse. Like her body recognized something her brain couldn't reach.

For half a second, something crossed his face too.

Then it was gone, smoothed over into an easy, lazy smile. The kind that probably worked on everyone.

"So you're the new sister."

He said it slow, like he was testing the word.

"Step," Aria said flatly. "Not the same thing."

His eyebrows lifted. Like he hadn't expected her to bite back.

"Cute," he said. Nothing in his tone said he meant it.

But his eyes stayed on her a beat too long. Searching. Like he was waiting for something — some flicker of recognition, some sign she remembered whatever he apparently did.

She didn't give him one. She didn't have one to give.

Victoria laughed, oblivious.

"You two are going to get along so well."

Neither of them said anything to that.

The parents disappeared into the kitchen, already talking about dinner, furniture, next week we should all — their voices fading into easy chatter, like this was already normal.

Aria grabbed her suitcase.

"I'll show you your room," Cayden said, not quite looking at her. "Apparently that's my job now."

"I can find a room myself."

"End of the hall. Next to mine." He started up the stairs without waiting. "Try not to get lost in the seven seconds it takes to get there."

She followed. Mostly because she had no idea where the stairs even led.

The upstairs hall was lined with framed photos. Victoria and Cayden at the beach. At some gala. Cayden in a varsity jacket holding a trophy, grinning like he'd never lost anything in his life.

He stopped outside a door and pushed it open with two fingers.

The room was bigger than her old one. Bed already made. Desk by the window. Her boxes stacked neatly in the corner, moved in by someone else's hands.

"Nice view," he said, nodding at the window. "You can see the whole street from up here."

She set her suitcase down. Looked around. Said nothing.

His easy expression cracked, just slightly.

"You're really not going to say anything?"

"About what?"

"The room. The house. Any of it."

"It's a nice room." She walked to the window, not looking at him. "Thanks. You can go now."

For a second he just stood there.

She could feel him still in the doorway. That specific kind of attention — the kind that meant someone was staring and hadn't decided to stop.

"Have we met before?"

The question came out of nowhere.

Aria turned.

He was watching her carefully now, the lazy mask slipped just enough to show something real underneath.

"What?" she said.

"You heard me." His voice was even. "Before all this. Have we met."

Her heart did something strange. Because the honest answer was that she didn't know — that he felt familiar in a way she couldn't explain and had been trying to ignore since she saw his photo.

But she wasn't about to tell him that.

"No," she said. "I think I'd remember."

Something flickered across his face. Disappointment, almost. Then it was gone, buried under that easy smile again.

"Right," he said. "My mistake."

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the hall.

"Goodnight, step-sister."

He said the word like a joke between them. Like he already knew it wouldn't stick.

Then he was gone, footsteps fading down the hall.

Aria shut the door.

Stood with her back against it.

Have we met before.

She didn't know why she'd lied. Or why it hadn't quite felt like a lie. Or why her heart was still racing over a question that should have meant nothing.

Across the hall, a door clicked shut.

And on the other side of it, Cayden sat on the edge of his bed, looking at a photo on his phone he'd never deleted — taken eight months ago, at a place neither of them was supposed to remember.

She didn't recognize him.

He'd spent eight months unable to forget her.