How I Ended Up With My Sister’s Boyfriend

Lingering Shadows

Maya’s POV

Saturday mornings were supposed to be lazy, the kind where I’d sleep in, scroll through my phone, or drag myself to the library with a coffee in hand. But not this week. I hadn’t stepped foot on campus since Monday, hadn’t replied to group chats about assignments, hadn’t even bothered to check the emails piling up. My professors probably thought I was sick. In a way, I was. Just not the kind anyone could see.

The heartbreak still sat heavy on me, even though everyone else in the house moved on with their days like nothing had changed. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, staring at the muted sunlight streaming through my curtains. The week had blurred into one long stretch of silence and unanswered questions, but today felt different—lighter somehow. Maybe because it was Saturday, and I could pretend that skipping school wasn’t such a big deal.

Downstairs, I heard voices. Sophia’s laughter floated up first, bright and effortless, followed by Mom’s soft hum as she cooked, and Dad’s gruff cough. And then, unmistakably, Ethan’s voice—low, even, and far too steady for how it unsettled me.

I hesitated before going down, but hunger won.

The kitchen smelled of eggs and buttered toast when I stepped in. Mom stood at the stove, Dad sat at the table with his coffee, Sophia perched on the counter scrolling through her phone, and Ethan leaned casually against the cabinets like he belonged there. My chest tightened at the sight.

“Maya,” Mom said with relief, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re finally up. Come eat before everything gets cold.”

I slid into the chair across from Dad, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Sophia grinned at me, her phone still in her hand. “About time. I thought we’d have to drag you out of bed.” She nudged Ethan playfully. “Didn’t I tell you? She hibernates when she’s sad.”

Heat rushed to my face. I wanted to snap that I wasn’t a child, that she didn’t need to make my misery a casual joke. Instead, I gave her a thin smile and muttered, “I guess.”

Ethan didn’t laugh. He just glanced at me, brief but steady, before sipping his coffee. The look was nothing, really. Just a second too long. But it sent a ripple through me all the same.

The meal passed with easy chatter—at least for them. Mom asked Sophia about her upcoming project at work, Dad teased her about always being glued to her phone, and Sophia, in turn, leaned against Ethan’s shoulder while showing him something on her screen. They looked picture-perfect, her hair falling across his arm as she laughed at his quiet reply.

I should have looked away. I should have kept my focus on the toast crumbling under my fingers. Instead, my chest tightened again, this time with guilt. He was hers. And I had no right to notice how natural they looked together… or how badly it stung.

When breakfast ended, Mom and Sophia decided to run errands together. Dad disappeared upstairs with his paper, leaving me in the kitchen rinsing dishes while Ethan dried them beside me.

The silence pressed down harder than any words could. I could feel him there, steady, quiet, his movements unhurried. I told myself not to say anything, but the words slipped out anyway.

“Thanks… for checking on me the other night.”

He looked at me then, really looked. Not the polite acknowledgment I expected, but something deeper. “You don’t have to thank me, Maya. You needed someone. That’s all.”

“That’s all,” I repeated softly, though the words echoed inside me like something heavier.

The silence stretched again. I focused on the dish in my hands, my pulse racing for no reason. Finally, I blurted, “I’ve been skipping classes all week.”

He set a plate down gently, his expression unreadable. “I figured. You’re usually more… consistent.”

Embarrassment flared in me. “I just couldn’t deal with everything. Not yet.”

He nodded, thoughtful. “That’s okay. You’ll get back on track. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but it made my throat tighten. My ex had never been that patient, never reminded me that it was okay to stumble.

I turned quickly back to the sink, afraid he’d see too much on my face. “Yeah. Maybe.”

When the last dish was done, I fled upstairs, heart pounding in my chest. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, pressing my forehead to the wood.

His words lingered. His presence lingered. And no matter how much I told myself otherwise, it stayed longer than it should have.