My Boyfriend's Brother

Your parents are both dead...

Meghan POV

I could not believe that someone I had loved so deeply was no more. The words still felt foreign in my mind, refusing to settle into something real. I did not know how I was supposed to continue living my life without him, how I was expected to wake up each morning and breathe as though my world had not completely ended.

I often found myself replaying our memories, especially our first meeting. It was nothing like the stories you see in movies—no dramatic rescue, no slow-motion moment where fate clearly announced itself. There was no gang of boys threatening me, no handsome stranger stepping in to save the day.

It wasn’t even like those romantic school films where a boy accidentally knocks a girl’s books to the floor, sparks fly through irritation, and hatred slowly melts into love.

No.

My story was nothing like that.

Meeting Jeff for the first time was ordinary—almost forgettable. And yet, somehow, that ordinary moment grew into a love so deep that I would later forget who I was without him. A love so consuming that even now, after his death, my heart still reached for him instinctively.

My subconscious rolled her eyes at me when I admitted that, but this was not the time for jokes. I was thinking about my husband. My Jeff. The man who was no longer breathing in this world.

My hands instinctively moved to my belly. Slowly, gently, I caressed the small curve that had begun to show. A sad smile tugged at my lips as I focused on the only treasure Jeff had left behind—the baby growing inside me.

Our baby.

The one piece of him I would cherish forever.

This child was conceived out of pure and true love. And yet the cruelest part of it all was knowing that he or she would never see their father’s face, never hear his voice, never feel his arms wrapped around them.

I found out I was pregnant just a few days after Jeff left.

I remember staring at the test in disbelief, my heart racing with excitement and fear. I had been tempted to call him immediately, to blurt it out over the phone, but I stopped myself. I wanted it to be special. I wanted to surprise him when he came back. I imagined his smile, the way his eyes would light up, the way he would pull me into his arms and whisper that we were going to be parents.

But that moment never came.

Jeff never got the chance to know that I was carrying his child.

The tears fell freely as that realization hit me once again. My baby would grow up knowing they had a father—but never knowing him.

The memories pulled me further back.

I still remembered the very first time I saw Jeff. Strangely, I felt nothing then. No butterflies. No spark. I simply saw him as an independent bachelor—confident, charming, the kind of man who could easily win any girl’s heart if he wanted to.

Just not mine.

Flashback

A few years earlier…

I walked hand in hand with Ethan toward the bus park, relief washing over me as the semester finally came to an end. Two full months of freedom lay ahead of us—two months to breathe, rest, and recover from the madness that university life had become.

Business Administration was hell.

At first, I had thought it would be easy. Math had always been my strength; numbers came naturally to me. But the first semester nearly broke me. I lost almost ten kilograms from stress alone. Sometimes I wondered how I would survive all four years without completely disappearing.

Still, I was determined. I wanted a first-class degree, and I was willing to sacrifice for it.

Boyfriends were not part of the plan.

I had always viewed relationships as dangerous distractions, something I could consider maybe in my third year—when things were more stable. Unfortunately, my appearance didn’t exactly help that plan. I was hit on almost everywhere I went.

I couldn’t help it. I was extremely good-looking—a fact I silently blamed on my parents. My mother had once been a beauty queen, and my father had always turned heads. I supposed the genes had done their work.

“I can’t believe this semester is finally over,” I said, glancing up at Ethan.

His hand tightened around mine, as though he was afraid someone might snatch me away. Ethan and I had officially become boyfriend and girlfriend only a few days earlier. We had met on the very first day on campus—both freshmen, both nervous, both trying to find our place.

Somehow, we clicked.

We soon discovered we were studying the same course and came from the same part of the country. That shared familiarity drew us closer, and before I knew it, Ethan had become my closest friend. I had even thought of him as a big brother—until the night he confessed that he was in love with me.

I had been shocked.

I cared for him deeply, but not in that way. Still, Ethan was persistent, patient, and kind. Toward the end of the semester, I finally gave in.

His happiness knew no bounds.

I convinced myself that I could learn to love him. He was handsome, gentle, and genuinely cared about me. What more could I ask for?

“I can’t believe I got myself a girlfriend,” Ethan said, bending down to place a soft kiss on my lips.

We had only shared a few innocent kisses so far nothing more. He always told me he was willing to wait until I was ready for anything beyond that. Even the thought of intimacy made me nervous.

“I know,” I replied, kissing him back shyly.

We planned to visit the beach one last time before heading home, promising to stay in touch through calls and FaceTime whenever possible. I thought—naively—that I might fall in love with him sooner than I realized.

We got into the car, laughter filling the air as we drove.

Then my phone rang.

It was my aunt.

That alone was strange. She never called me. As far as I knew, most of my extended family resented us for being the ‘wealthy ones.’

“Yes, Aunty?” I answered.

“Your parents are both dead.”

The line went dead.

I froze.

My body refused to move, my mind struggling to process the words. When I checked my phone, there were already several missed calls from neighbors, family friends, and people I barely knew.

It was true.

And in that moment, the girl I once was ceased to exist.