Forgotten Vows

Chapter 2 – A Fiancé, a Stepsister, and a Lie

In that corridor, Emerie was pulled into a memory—the first time she met Jonathan, she was five and he was six.

Their houses stood side by side on a quiet street. One afternoon she stood beneath the biggest oak on the block while a kitten cried from a branch far above. She begged for help, but there was no ladder and no one came. Jonathan appeared beside her, climbed up without hesitation, and brought the kitten down. When he jumped from the last branch, sunlight spilled through the leaves and turned him golden—in Emerie's eyes, he looked like a hero. She laughed with relief—and after that they were hardly apart—riding bikes, sharing snacks, doing homework together.

When her father was still alive, he would watch them from the grill. “Jonathan, take care of her," he joked. “She's smaller than you."

“I will," Jonathan always answered.

Years later, when her father fell sick and the house smelled like medicine, Jonathan kept coming over. One night, sitting on the stairs, Emerie whispered, “I'm scared."

“Of what?" he asked.

“Of him not getting better. Of everything changing."

“Even if things change, I'll still be next door," he said. “You can knock on my window whenever you want."

“You promise?"

“I promise."

Not long after, her father died. The house that used to feel warm felt hollow.

Then her mother remarried.

John, her new stepfather, had a polite smile and a daughter from his previous marriage. Emerie met Linda in the living room.

“This is Linda," John said. “She's your age."

“There's no blood relation," her mother added quickly. “But you're sisters from now on. Treat each other well."

“Of course," Emerie said.

Linda's smile was smooth and pretty. “Nice to meet you, Emerie."

At first, Emerie tried her best. She showed Linda around the neighborhood and finally took her next door.

“This is Jonathan," Emerie said. “We grew up together."

“You're the famous neighbor," Linda said lightly. “Emerie talks about you all the time."

Jonathan looked embarrassed. “We just hang out," he muttered.

After that, Linda started “hanging out" too.

When Emerie studied with Jonathan at his kitchen table, Linda appeared with a book. “Can I join? I'm failing math," she'd sigh.

When Emerie and Jonathan rode their bikes, Linda followed, laughing at Jonathan's jokes and flicking her hair off her shoulder.

Emerie told herself it was fine. They were just friends. But at home she felt the tilt of affection: Grace fussed over Linda and treated Emerie's efforts as expected. Emerie learned to be the easy one—the extra one. When she felt unwanted, she escaped next door—because Jonathan still knocked on her window first.

Time moved on. They finished high school, went to university, and their childhood promise turned into something more. They held hands in the dark of a cinema. They kissed under streetlights. They talked about the future like it was already written.

“After graduation, I'll start at my dad's company," Jonathan said one night, parked outside her house. “I'll work hard, get promoted, then…"

“Then?" she asked, smiling.

“Then we'll get married," he said. “We'll buy a small house. You wanted a garden, right?"

“And a swing," she added.

He laughed. “Fine. A garden and a swing."

In those moments, everything felt secure, and the future Jonathan promised felt like escape. Linda's constant presence became something she tried not to think about. When Linda messaged Jonathan late at night or called to complain, he always said,

“She's having a rough time. New city, new school. We should be kind."

Emerie swallowed the uneasy feeling and nodded.

One evening, Jonathan said, “There's a business event next week. Big thing. Investors, partners. My dad wants me there."

“Sounds serious," she said.

“It is," he replied. “I'll pick you up at six. Wear something nice. I want to show you off."

On the night of the event, she stood in front of the mirror in a simple dress, hair pinned up, waiting for Jonathan's knock.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Jonathan: “Hey, something came up. I'll explain later. Don't wait for me tonight."

Her smile froze. She called at once; the call went straight to voicemail.

Half an hour later, her friend Mia called. “Are you watching the live stream from the Grand Hotel?" she asked. “Jonathan's there—with Linda on his arm. People keep asking when they're getting married. I'll send a screenshot."

A picture arrived a moment later. Jonathan in a suit, Linda in a glittering dress, her hand on his arm.

Emerie stared until the image blurred. Anger spiked, then unease. It felt like a loop: Linda saw, wanted, took.

“I have to go," she said, ending the call.

She sat on her bed, dress still on, phone cold in her hand. By the time the doorbell rang, her anger had hardened.

Jonathan stood on the porch, still in his suit, tie loosened.

“Emerie—"

“You were busy," she said coolly, blocking the doorway.

He flinched. “I can explain."

“Explain that you took my stepsister on your arm to the event we were supposed to go to together?" she snapped. “Explain that everyone thinks you're a couple? That people are asking when you'll marry her?"

“It's not what you think," he said.

“It looks exactly like what I think."

He ran a hand through his hair. “She called this afternoon and begged to come—said she was nervous about going alone. I thought refusing would make a scene, so I agreed."

“You sent, 'Don't wait for me,'" she said. “You didn't say, 'I'm taking Linda instead.'"

“It wasn't 'instead,'" he argued. “It was work. I needed someone at my side, and she asked. That's all. It meant nothing."

“People were asking when you'd marry her," Emerie said.

“They were joking," he replied quickly. “I shut it down."

“That doesn't change how it feels," she whispered.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You're overreacting. Linda and I are not together. We never will be. To me, she's just… family."

“She's not my family," Emerie replied. “And I'm tired of her standing between us."

“Then don't let her," Jonathan said more softly. “Look at me."

She forced herself to meet his eyes.

“I love you," he said. “I'm going to marry you. Tonight was just business. It doesn't change us, unless you let it."

For a moment, she said nothing. This was the boy who had promised she could always knock on his window. The man who talked about gardens and swings.

Her shoulders sagged. The sharp edge of her anger dulled, leaving a heavy ache.

“Fine," she said at last. “I'll let it go this time."

Relief crossed his face. He pulled her into his arms. “Thank you," he murmured. “I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

Emerie rested her cheek against his chest, eyes closed. His heartbeat was steady against her ear.

“I believe you," she said quietly.

But deep inside, a small hard knot stayed in place.

Linda had walked in on Jonathan's arm once.

Emerie had a feeling that, with just a little more effort, Linda would try again.