Just for you

Chapter One

The aircraft engines bled off power with a heavy, pressurized hiss as the cabin doors unsealed. I dragged my tote bag from the overhead bin, slinging it over my shoulder before falling into the slow shuffle of passengers spilling out into the terminal.

The air hit me instantly—warm, thick, and heavy.

I dragged my rolling suitcase through the glass corridor, the steady clack-clack-clack of its wheels echoing against the slick floors. Surrounding me was the usual blur of arrivals lounge chaos: announcements chiming overhead, families crowding together, and travelers darting past with their heads down. I barely saw any of it. My chest felt tight, the exhaustion of the long flight settling deep into my bones.

After retrieving my heavy bag from the carousel, I pulled both handles tight in my hands and turned toward the exit. The glass doors slid open, releasing me into the bright, noisy swell of the crowd. I slowed my pace, scanning the sea of waiting faces.

Then I saw him.

He was standing near the back rail, towering over the crowd. The moment my eyes found his, his arm went up, waving in broad, clear strokes. A familiar smile broke across his face—sudden, bright, and cutting right through the chaotic blur of the terminal.

My feet stopped cold.

Seven years.

Seven years of hearing his voice through static-filled phone calls, looking at blurry photos, and wondering if time was changing him the same way it was breaking and rebuilding me. And now, there he was—standing in the flesh, waving like no time had passed at all. He was taller, broader in the shoulders, the boyhood softness in his face replaced by sharper lines and stubble along his jaw. But that grin was entirely him.

"Big bro!"

The scream ripped right out of my chest. I dropped the handle of my suitcase, letting it clatter to the floor, and threw myself forward.

Before I could even wrap my arms around him, he caught me. His hands braced under my arms, lifting me clean off my feet, and he whirled me around in a wild, dizzying circle right there in the middle of the crowded lounge.

"Little sis!" he laughed, his voice rumbling deep against my ear as he planted my feet back on the ground, but he didn't let go. He locked me into a bear hug so tight my ribs protested, burying his face into the top of my head.

I crushed my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep, my eyes stinging.

Seven years, and yet the moment I breathed him in, the distance melted away. He smelled like home—that warm blend of laundry detergent, crisp cedarwood, and afternoon sun.

"You smell like home," I choked out, my voice muffled against his jacket. "God, I missed you."

He pulled back just enough to hold me at arm's length, scanning my face before reaching down to grab my heavy luggage. "Look at you," he murmured, shaking his head with a wide smile. "Come on. Let’s get you out of this madness."

We walked out into the open air, heading toward the parking garage. The weight of separation was slowly lifting, replaced by the easy rhythm of walking side by side.

"So," I began, my voice still a little thick as I looked up at him. "How is my sister-in-law? How is your wife doing?"

"She's doing great," he said, throwing a warm glance my way as he clicked the unlock button on his keys. "She’s home waiting for us. She made sure the house was completely ready for you."

He lifted my heavy bag into the trunk, and I leaned against the side of the car, watching him. A quiet memory flickered in my mind, bringing a small smile to my lips.

"And Favour?" I asked, my tone softening. "How is he?"

My brother paused for a split second, a trunk strap still in his hand, before looking up with an eyebrow raised.

"Favour?" he repeated, a sudden smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, Favour," I said, feeling a slight flush warm my cheeks. "I’ve... I've really missed him."

He slammed the trunk shut, the heavy thud echoing across the garage. The smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a firm, careful look as he wiped his palms on his jeans.

"Listen to me," he said, lowering his voice into that protective tone he used when things were serious. "Do not bring up Favour like that when we get inside."

I blinked. "Why? What are you talking about?"

He sighed, crossing his arms. "Favour is married now."

The words hit my chest like a physical weight, knocking the air right out of my lungs.

"Married?" I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, married," he said gently. "It’s been two years now. And look... his wife is a really nice lady. She’s wonderful, honestly. So when you see him, or when we're all around each other, you need to keep those old memories where they belong. Don't make things uncomfortable."

Two years. For two years, he had belonged to someone else while I was away, carrying a memory that had already turned to dust behind my back.

"Does he..." I paused, my fingers clutching the strap of my tote bag until my knuckles turned white. "Does he still come around? To the house?"

My brother looked at me for a long moment, seeing right through the calm mask I was trying to pull over my face.

"Yeah," he answered quietly, popping open the passenger door for me. "He still comes around. He's still my best friend."

I forced a small, tight smile to my lips. "That's good," I said smoothly, my voice steady despite the quiet ache spreading through my chest. "I'm really happy for him."

I ducked into the passenger seat, pulling the heavy door shut to seal out the noise of the airport. Outside, my brother stood by the door for a fraction of a second before walking around to the driver’s side.

As he got in and started the engine, pulling out into the afternoon traffic, I leaned my temple against the cool glass of the window, letting the silence wrap around me. I watched my reflection ghosted against the glass—twenty-four years old, but looking into my own eyes, I felt older. Tired.

It was funny, really. Seven years away, a whole different life built on a different continent, and yet a single name could strip all of it away.

Favour.

I had fallen for him when I was way too young to understand what I was stepping into. He was my brother’s best friend, the boy who was always around, the one who slowly became the center of my universe. What we had… it wasn’t some soft, innocent fairytale. Looking back, I knew it was toxic. It was intense, messy, and sharp around the edges. We pulled at each other’s flaws, fought hard, and loved harder. But at the time, we both needed it. We needed each other. In the middle of all our personal chaos, he was the only one who truly saw me, and I was the only one who could anchor him.

It was a dangerous kind of love—the kind that consumes you until there’s nothing left of who you used to be.

And the terrifying, pathetic part? Seven years, thousands of miles, and a ring on his finger hadn't changed a damn thing for me.

I closed my eyes, feeling that familiar, suffocating grip tighten around my heart. I had tried to outrun it. I had tried to date other people, to bury his memory under school, work, and distance. But the truth was simple and ruinous: I still loved him. I couldn't let go. Even now, knowing he belonged to someone else, the mere thought of him set every nerve under my skin on fire.

I was twenty-four, standing at the edge of a life I was supposed to be starting fresh, and I was still hopelessly bound to a man who wasn't mine to love anymore.