My Stepbrother, My Sin

Chapter7

Moana’s POV

“Moana, have you seen Ashton?” she asked. Her voice already carried that impatient edge, like

she expected me to confess immediately.

“No,

” I said. Simple and Straight.

But before I even finished the word, she grabbed my wrist.

“Come. Let’s go look for him.

”

I pulled my hand a little, not roughly, just enough to make it clear I didn’t like being dragged

around.

“Nadine, I...

”

She didn’t let me talk.

“You are his sister. You should know where he goes. Stop wasting time.

”

And like that, I ended up following her. She walked fast, like she couldn’t wait to reach him. I

kept my face straight, but inside, irritation built.

We checked the living room first. Empty. Then the balcony. Nobody. She kept pulling me along

like she’d fall apart if she stopped. All I could hear was our footsteps and the sound of her

breath getting more frustrated by the second.

“He might be in the study,

” she said finally, dragging me toward that direction.

The moment she said it, something tightened in me. Ashton liked quiet places. The study was

his go-to spot when he didn’t want to be bothered. If he was there, he definitely didn’t want

company.

We reached the door. Nadine didn’t even knock. She pushed it open and pulled me inside with

her.

Ashton was there.

He sat at the table with his back slightly bent forward, staring at something in his hand. A

picture. He didn’t look up immediately. He didn’t even notice us enter at first. His eyes were

locked on whatever he was holding.

Then he heard the door close. He looked up fast. His shoulders tightened. And the moment he

saw me and Nadine, he shifted the picture behind a book beside him. Like he was hiding

incriminating evidence.

I knew that picture. I didn’t need to see it. That picture was mine. I gave it to him. I remembered

the day I did. I remembered the look on his face when he took it.

Nadine dropped my hand without even realizing it and rushed straight to him.

“Ashton!” She sounded excited now, like she’d forgotten she was annoyed three seconds ago.

She leaned toward him and kissed his cheek.

“What were you looking at before we came in?”

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t even look at her. He kept his eyes on the table like she wasn’t

there. Then he lifted his gaze slightly and looked at me.

Full eye contact.

And he didn’t hide the message in his eyes. It was clear. Why did you bring her here?

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look away. I didn’t owe him any explanation. Nadine dragged me here. I

wouldn’t start explaining myself just because he was annoyed.

I looked back at him with the same straight expression and broke the eye contact first.

“I’m leaving,

” I said quietly.

Nadine waved me off without looking at me.

“Okay, you can go.

”

So I turned and walked out.

I shut the door behind me. Not loudly. Just enough to feel like I separated myself from whatever

scene they were about to continue.

I walked down the passage, trying to steady my breathing. I didn’t want anything to slip out of

me. Not my thoughts. Not my feelings. Not the pressure building slowly in my chest.

I entered my room and closed the door. Leaned on it for a second. I didn’t even take a full

breath before it happened.

One tear rolled down on its own. Then another.

I wiped it quickly, but more followed. I didn’t sob. I didn’t break down. My face stayed almost

expressionless, but the tears just kept falling like they didn’t care about my pride. And the more I

tried to stop them, the faster they came.

I sat on the edge of the bed and pressed my palms together, trying to regain control.

It wasn’t jealousy.

I told myself that over and over.

It wasn’t jealousy.

It was the frustration of everything. The way Nadine dragged me around like I was some side

character. The way Ashton looked at me like I owed him an explanation. The way he hid that

picture the moment she showed up. The way Nadine kissed him like it was normal.

It messed with my head.

I hated pretending it didn’t.

I wiped my face again, but the tears didn’t stop immediately. They slowed eventually, enough for

me to breathe without feeling that sting behind my eyes.

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I tried to convince myself I didn’t care. That it didn’t

matter. That it was just a picture, just a moment, just a look.

But my chest felt tight.

It felt like something inside me cracked a little.

Not loudly.

I turned my face to the side so no one would see the tear marks if they walked in. Not that

anyone would. Nobody came to my room unless they wanted something.

I took a slow breath. Tried to swallow the hurt down.

It didn’t go down easily.

I kept replaying the moment he hid the picture. The way his eyes froze when he realized we saw

him. The way he didn’t want Nadine to see it. The way he looked at me like I put him in trouble

by just standing there.

I shouldn’t have cared that much. But I did.

And that was what hurt the most.

The room felt smaller. My chest felt heavier. And no matter how hard I tried to shake it off, the

sting stayed in my throat.

I curled one hand under my head and closed my eyes.

Just for a second.

Just to shut everything out.

But my mind didn’t shut anything out. It replayed everything all over again, slower this time,

making it worse.

Why was he staring at my picture like that?

Why did he have that look in his eyes when he looked at me?

Why did it affect me at all? I already told myself to stop the feelings.

I opened my eyes again because lying there only made my thoughts louder.

I sat up, wiped my face with both hands until my cheeks felt dry. I didn’t want any trace of tears

left. I hated crying. It made me feel weak. And the last thing I wanted was to be seen as

someone who fell apart over something so small.

But it wasn’t small to me.

And that was the problem.

I stood up and walked to the mirror just to check if my eyes were swollen. They were a little red,

but nothing too obvious. I could pass it off as tiredness if anyone asked.

I looked at myself for a long second. Just looking. No thoughts. No emotions. Just staring at my

reflection like I was trying to remind myself who I was before all this chaos started.

Then I moved back to the bed, sat down again, and let out a long, slow breath.

I didn’t know why my chest still felt heavy.

I didn’t know why it bothered me that he hid the picture.

I didn’t know why Nadine’s little kiss irritated me more than it should.

But all of it sat there in my chest like a weight I couldn’t push away.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, palms pressed together. My heartbeat felt too loud for

the quiet room.

I didn’t cry again, but the sting stayed in my eyes.

And I hated how much I cared.

I hated it more than anything.

But no matter how hard I tried to detach myself, my heart didn’t listen.

I sat there for a long while, letting the weight settle, trying to breathe through it. Trying to act like

it didn’t matter.

But inside, I felt the hurt.

Sharp.

Quiet.

Unavoidable.

And even though I didn’t say it out loud, the truth sat there in my chest:

It hurt because it was him.