I said yes to Declan’s proposal. After the wedding, I stopped interfering with any of his and Maisie’s boundary-crossing behavior. I could even manage a polite smile when Maisie fed him a bite of her appetizer at my birthday dinner. Facing the knowing glances and sly teasing from our friends, I responded with cool composure. “Oh, that? They’ve been attached at the hip since kindergarten, practically grew up in the same sandbox. I’m completely used to it.” But Declan’s face clouded over, and he slammed his chopsticks down. 1 Clatter— “Get out!” Declan’s jaw was tight, his face a furious mask. The entire private room fell into a stunned silence. The guests exchanged glances, then slowly began to rise. “Dec, no matter how upset you are that your wife is trying to passively-aggressively shame me, you can’t ruin her own birthday party—” “You too. Go.” Maisie hadn't expected him to shout at her. She froze for a moment, her eyes instantly welling up, and then she bolted from the room. Once the door closed behind the last retreating figure, I let out a slow sigh. “What’s wrong? Did the scallops Maisie picked out for you not taste right?” Declan’s gaze was practically on fire, his chest heaving as he stared me down. “Savannah, do you have to be like this?” “Like what?” “You’re doing this deliberately! This whole act of faux-calm, this sickening indifference, this calculated show of being the ‘bigger person’—it’s all to torture me!” I turned my head away, my expression perfectly neutral, tinged with a delicate confusion. “But Declan, isn’t this exactly what you always wanted?” “You said I was too jealous and demanded that I stop interfering with you and Maisie. I did. I even did better than you asked. So what exactly are you unhappy about now?” He surged to his feet, leaning in, his presence suffocating. “You know that’s not what I meant!” “You’re seething inside right now, and you’re only pretending to be detached to deliberately piss me off. But do you have any idea how much you’re humiliating me in front of my friends?” “They’re all talking behind my back, saying you’re just pretending to be agreeable, that you have no real feeling for me. Isn’t that exactly what you wanted them to think?!” I couldn’t help but let a corner of my mouth curl up. Declan’s friends, at least, were proving to be smarter than him. “Think whatever you like. Every action and word that leaves my mouth is completely sincere. If you refuse to believe me, there’s truly nothing I can do.” I stood up, ready to leave. Declan grabbed my arm, pulling me roughly back against the wall. He buried his face in the curls near my neck, his voice softening, muffled and thick with an aggrieved plea. “Sav, I know I shouldn’t have brought her to your birthday dinner. I’m sorry. I know I screwed up. Please, stop being mad at me, okay?” I had a moment of pure disorientation. I’m three years older than Declan. The first time we met at a charity gala, he’d used that exact soft, boyish inflection. “I’m Declan Beaumont! You’re the most beautiful woman here, can I please have your number?” Back then, Declan was all golden, easy-going youth. Years later, he rarely used that pleading tone, but when he was in trouble, he still resorted to this sort of petulant supplication. “Fine.” Seeing me relent, he immediately brightened, the earlier unpleasantness forgotten. “Great! Let’s ditch this place and go somewhere else. We still have time for us, just the two of us, to celebrate before midnight—” His words were cut short by a frantic ringtone. He glanced at it, pressed ignore, but the screen immediately lit up again. Declan’s eyes narrowed. He swallowed his apology and spoke without hesitation. “The office. There’s a crisis with the new European project. I have to go back. You go home and wait for me, alright?” Then, without looking back, he was gone. My hand went up to the spot on my neck where his head had rested, my eyes fixed and unfocused on the closed door. A moment later, I reached into my bag, pulled out a wet wipe, and expressionlessly rubbed the skin clean. I won’t be waiting anymore, Declan. 2 I didn’t go home. I called a car service straight to the airport. I shut off my phone the moment I boarded, sleeping through the flight until we landed in London. The instant I powered on my phone, dozens of missed calls and frantic texts from Declan flooded the screen. [You’re not home? Why aren’t you answering?] [Why the hell are you flying to Europe in the middle of the night? Is this some pathetic runaway ploy again?] [You have sixty seconds to text me back! Or I swear, I’m filing for divorce!] Before I could finish reading the rest, his call came through. “Savannah, there’s a limit to how dramatic you can be! Just walking out without a word—were you trying to give me a heart attack?” I gathered the hair the stiff airport breeze had whipped across my face. “I told you last week, Declan. I had a business trip to the UK to close a multinational partnership deal.” The person on the other end paused, then stammered defensively. “D-did you? I don’t recall that at all.” “I did mention it. But you were busy texting Maisie, and you told me to ‘handle it yourself.’” A long, painful silence followed. After a full minute, all he could manage was a stiff: “I have to go. Talk later.” I ended the call and instinctively lit a cigarette. In the final two seconds before he hung up, I’d heard Maisie’s clear, high-pitched voice in the background. I smiled, completely unbothered. If this had happened before we were married, I probably would have already been buying a ticket back home to confront him. In the three years we dated, Maisie was a constant, ubiquitous ghost. She was even there when Declan successfully asked me out. We celebrated that evening as a trio. Maisie ran over from across the restaurant, instantly draping her arm over Declan’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t mind me, Sav! Dec and I have known each other since we were in diapers. It’s his big day, of course I had to crash it!” Declan frowned and shrugged her hand off his shoulder. “When are you going to stop throwing yourself at people every time you see them?” I felt a slight prickle of discomfort then, but honestly, I didn’t give it much thought. It was only later that similar instances piled up. Our dates were always a party of three. Even on special holidays like Valentine’s Day, or our anniversary, Declan would have a gift for her. “Maisie’s all alone, Sav. If I forget about her too, she’ll truly be left with no one.” That was Declan’s most frequent explanation. It was weak, but back then, I was still so infatuated that I tolerated it. 3 The moment I couldn’t tolerate it anymore was on Declan’s first birthday after we started dating. I leased an entire rooftop garden, spent a fortune on decor, and had custom sports car—the one he’d been obsessed with for months—shipped from Europe and displayed on a rotating platform in the center of the room. I invited all his friends. I was so excited, imagining his face when he saw the surprise, a genuine smile pulling at my lips at the thought. But that night, Declan never showed up. As the party was winding down, his friend Rhys came over to me. “Savannah, look, the truth is... Dec never spends his birthday with us.” I was stunned. “Then how does he spend it? Why didn't any of you tell me when I invited you?” Rhys hesitated, finally sighing heavily. “Look, promise you won’t tell him I said this.” “He spends every single birthday alone with Maisie. They’re probably at her apartment right now. We didn’t tell you because... we all assumed you had worked something out with him this year. We didn’t realize...” That’s why every time I called them that day, their first reaction had been shock, followed by asking if Declan knew I was throwing him a party. In that instant, I realized I was the punchline of a very expensive joke. I drove straight to Maisie’s apartment complex. Declan’s luxury sedan was haphazardly parked outside. An hour after I arrived, the light in Maisie’s window finally flickered off. I got out of my car and waited for Declan to emerge. But for a full twenty minutes, no one came downstairs. I got back into my car, a self-deprecating laugh catching in my throat as tears slid down my cheeks. I chain-smoked until the first hint of morning light broke over the skyline. When Declan finally came down, he looked tired, hungover, but his expression held a certain unmistakable, deep-set contentment. He froze when he saw me, then immediately scowled. “Savannah? Why are you here?” “Was your birthday not satisfying enough for you?” I fought to keep my voice steady, but it was hoarse and cracking. “Don’t make a scene here. Let’s just go home and talk.” He reached for my hand, his expression unnatural, but I snatched mine away. “A scene? Declan, we’re done. I want a breakup.” I stared into his eyes, speaking slowly and deliberately. He instantly grew irritated. “Are you serious? Over something so minor? It’s always been a tradition that Maisie celebrates my birthday alone with me. Besides, you didn’t give me enough warning about your party!” “It is serious! I told you about this party a month ago! You didn’t care enough to remember, you ignored my calls and texts all day yesterday, and you spent the entire night with another woman! An entire night! And you call that minor?” It was the first time I’d ever screamed, completely losing my composure in front of Declan. “Savannah, can you stop being so completely irrational? Maisie and I are siblings, practically. There’s nothing going on between us. If there was, it would have happened ages ago. You’re blowing this up.” “She is nothing more than a little sister to me, the kid next door. Why do you constantly insist on competing with her?” Tears streamed down my face, uncontrolled, but he just stood there, watching me fall apart. My body was trembling with sobs, yet he remained completely untouched. “A brother, a sister, a best friend—what is she to you, really?” “No sister monopolizes her brother’s birthday! And no brother ditches his girlfriend for every little, insignificant thing his ‘sister’ asks of him!” That was our first real fight. It was loud, messy, and devastating. He accused me of lacking trust and overreacting. I accused him of perpetually prioritizing Maisie and completely disregarding my feelings. The end of the argument came when he pulled out a diamond ring and said: “Sav, I really, truly messed up. I promise I’ll change. Just forgive me, please.” I was weak. I forgave him, thinking the solemn promise of marriage would finally make him draw a line. I won’t deny that the moment he proposed, I was happy. I thought the commitment of marriage would finally force him to discipline himself. Instead, it only gave him the license to hurt me with even greater abandon. The cigarette butt burned my fingertip, the small, sharp pain dragging me back to the cold, gray reality of the British morning. I stubbed out the cigarette. The English sky was always so heavy and vast, lending the world an air of cold loneliness. 4 At the celebratory dinner for the deal I’d secured, Declan showed up, clutching a massive bouquet of garishly red roses. “Savannah, congratulations on landing the account.” He was dressed impeccably, and his timing was perfect. A smattering of polite, professional applause and congratulatory murmurs rose around us. I smiled gently, taking the roses. I feigned a soft reprimand. “You’re terrible, showing up all this way without a warning.” “Well, I wanted to surprise you, didn’t I?” He clearly approved of my composed reaction. He tried to take my hand, but another pair of hands reached past me and slipped firmly into the crook of his arm. I didn’t need to look to know who they belonged to. “This is rich! You two are out here wining and dining, and you didn’t invite me? Good thing I followed you all the way over here!” Maisie’s voice was bright and loud, carrying her signature, spoiled charm. She was wearing a pure white cocktail dress tonight, and standing next to Declan in his sharp suit, they looked, to the untrained eye, inexplicably perfect together. Declan stiffened, trying to gently extricate his arm, but she clung to him tighter. The ambient chatter in the room evaporated instantly. Everyone was subtly watching my reaction, some with undisguised schadenfreude. My smile never wavered. In fact, it grew softer as I looked at Maisie. “Goodness, Maisie, you should have traveled with your brother! It must have been so lonely and dangerous to fly here by yourself.” Maisie faltered, clearly thrown off by my total lack of anger. I turned back to Declan, pushing the roses into his chest. “Since Maisie is here, you can spend some time entertaining her. I need to go over a few final details with Mr. James, the channel partner.” “Maisie, the desserts here are exquisite, and I remember you love French pastries. Have Dec treat you to a few, okay?” With a nod to the surrounding guests, I left the couple, gliding naturally toward the main table. Mr. James, the head of the largest European distribution chain. The primary purpose of this celebration was to solidify our connection with him. I had been trying to figure out how to elegantly ditch Declan, but Maisie’s sudden appearance had, accidentally, done the work for me. “Sue, your husband and his… friend, they are most entertaining.” James offered a low-voiced, accented tease. I raised my champagne flute and tapped it lightly against his, utterly unruffled. “It’s a minor distraction, nothing important. Let’s focus on the important work. Regarding next quarter’s projected logistics…” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Declan trying to pull away from Maisie and follow me, but she had him completely trapped. 5 The look Maisie shot me was one of triumphant, smug defiance. I was entirely unmoved. My only concern was that they would make a scene and embarrass me, so I signaled my assistant to keep a discreet watch nearby. The partnership with James was too crucial to be jeopardized by those two children. The celebration wrapped up, and I made preparations to head straight back to the airport. “Savannah, I flew all this way to see you, and now you’ve said maybe five words to me, and you’re leaving me again?” Declan caught up to me at the hotel entrance, his voice thick with clear annoyance and a subtle, petulant whine. Maisie was still plastered to his side, gazing at me with a haughty, dismissive air. I stopped, my smile still perfectly polished. “Declan, the second I closed the deal, I booked the next flight home. I have an essential board meeting to chair. You know how it is. I have to deliver these results if I want to outmaneuver my useless brothers and earn my place at The Harrington Group.” “So just let me go home today, hmm? Be good.” That patronizing line was one Declan had used to placate me countless times. He faltered, his brow furrowing deeper. “How important can one meeting be? Is it more important than me? I’m already here. I checked the schedule and booked the same flight as you. Can’t you postpone by a day?” 6 “Your wife is a big shot now, Dec. Everyone knows she’s practically eclipsed her older brother at The Harrington Group.” Maisie tossed the comment out carelessly, though her eyes were sharp with mockery. “We’re just two rich kids playing around, Dec. We shouldn’t waste her time when she’s doing such important things.” I nodded approvingly. “Maisie, you’re becoming so much more mature. Declan, you really should take a few notes from her.” I reached into my handbag and produced a key card, slipping it into Declan’s hand. “By the way, this was the suite I booked. I don’t need it now. It’s a two-bedroom. You two can take it.” Declan stared blankly at the card, his voice a stiff croak. “You... you want me to share a room with another woman?” “Why not? It’s not like you haven’t before. You’re brother and sister, darling. Relax. I trust you both implicitly.” “I’m really out of time. I need to leave now. Maisie, thank you for taking care of your brother for me.” Before he could react, I turned, opened the car door, and drove away. In the rearview mirror, I watched Declan standing rooted to the pavement, the key card clutched in his hand, his face a pale, horrified mask as he stared at the retreating car. I rolled down the window and lit a cigarette, the faint minty tobacco scent filling the car. I put the choice in your hands, Declan. Let’s see what you do with it.
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