CHAPTER 1 : THE DAY OUR PARENTS SAID "I DO"
Chapter One
The Day Our Parents Said “I Do”
People say weddings are about beginnings.
That’s a lie.
Weddings are about ghosts.
I realized this the moment my eyes collided with his across the crowded reception hall, champagne glasses clinking, laughter spilling everywhere like nothing in the world could ever rot beneath it.
Ethan Hale.
My ex.
My first love.
My mistake.
And now my stepbrother.
The word tasted wrong in my mouth. Stepbrother. Like a joke that had gone too far and refused to die.
I stood beside my mother, smiling so hard my cheeks ached, pretending I wasn’t unraveling thread by thread. She looked radiant in white, glowing in the kind of happiness she’d waited years for. After heartbreak, abandonment, and a life of almosts, she finally got her forever.
With his father.
The irony was cruel. Almost funny. Almost.
Ethan leaned against one of the tall pillars, dressed in a black suit that fit him like sin. Broader now. Sharper. The boy I once loved had been replaced by a man who knew exactly what he was doing to people when he looked at them like that.
His gaze dragged over me slowly. Deliberately. Like he had all the time in the world and nowhere better to be.
My stomach flipped.
We hadn’t spoken. Not since the moment months ago when our parents sat us down in the living room, hands intertwined, eyes glowing, and announced they were in love.
Not since the silence that followed when Ethan and I realized at the exact same second that the universe had an ugly sense of humor.
You could’ve picked anyone, I’d thought back then. Anyone.
Instead, life chose him.
“Sweetheart,” my mother whispered, nudging me gently. “Smile. People are watching.”
I smiled.
Of course I did.
That’s what I was good at. Pretending.
The ceremony had been beautiful. Emotional. Everyone cried. Everyone clapped. Everyone believed in the love story unfolding in front of them.
Everyone except Ethan and me.
Because we knew what had existed long before our parents ever met.
Late-night calls. Stolen kisses. Love so intense it burned too fast. A breakup that left scars neither of us ever fully admitted to.
And now we were supposed to sit at the same table and act like strangers bonded by law instead of memory.
University had given me distance. A boyfriend. A routine. A life I’d carefully rebuilt without him.
Or so I’d told myself.
The MC called for the families to gather for photos. I felt it before it happened Ethan stepping closer, the air shifting, the space between us evaporating like it had never existed.
“You look… different,” he said quietly.
His voice slid under my skin.
I didn’t turn to him. “So do you.”
A pause.
“You didn’t answer my messages,” he added.
“I didn’t owe you answers.”
“We owe each other more than silence.”
That did it. I finally faced him, my smile cracking just enough to hurt. “We owe each other nothing. That ended years ago.”
His jaw tightened. A muscle jumped near his temple. I knew that look. I’d always known that look.
“That’s not what your hands are saying,” he murmured.
I froze.
Because he was right.
My fingers were clenched at my side, nails digging into my palm, my body reacting in ways my brain refused to acknowledge.
“Watch yourself,” I whispered. “This is not the place.”
He leaned in just enough that only I could hear him. “Then tell me when and where.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Before I could respond, my boyfriend Daniel appeared beside me, arm slipping naturally around my waist. Grounding. Safe. Real.
“You okay?” Daniel asked, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.
“Yes,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
Ethan’s eyes darkened.
Something ugly flashed across his face. Something possessive. Something that scared me more than it should have.
“Family photo,” the photographer called.
Family.
We lined up. Smiled. Click.
Ethan stood beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. Electricity sparked where we touched, sharp and unwanted.
Or wanted. I didn’t know anymore.
After the photos, I escaped to the balcony, lungs burning like I’d been holding my breath for years. The city lights blurred as tears stung my eyes not from sadness, but from panic.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I had moved on. I had healed. I had chosen normal.
Behind me, the balcony door slid open.
I didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.
“You can’t run forever,” Ethan said.
“I can try,” I replied.
Silence stretched between us, thick and loaded.
“This changes nothing,” I said finally. “We’re adults. We have separate lives. Partners. Boundaries.”
He laughed softly. Not amused. Not kind.
“You still lie when you’re scared,” he said. “You still press your lips together like that when you’re trying not to feel.”
I spun to face him. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Act like we still matter.”
His eyes locked onto mine. Unblinking. Intense.
“We do,” he said. “That’s the problem.”
My phone buzzed in my hand Daniel’s name lighting up the screen. Reality calling me back.
Ethan noticed.
“Does he know?” he asked.
“Know what?”
“That you still look at me like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re imagining things.”
He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell his cologne. Close enough that memory slammed into me full force.
“Careful,” he whispered. “Secrets have a way of digging themselves up.”
I pulled away sharply. “This ends here.”
He smiled then. Slow. Confident.
“Nothing that ever mattered to us ends quietly.”
As I walked back inside, heart pounding, one truth settled heavy in my chest
This marriage hadn’t united a family.
It had reopened a wound.
And somewhere deep down, I knew this was only the beginning of something dark enough to destroy us both.
