I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the photo—
Ava standing beside Leo, holding his cake, smiling like she belonged there.
Not with me.
With him.
When morning came, Ava acted like nothing happened.
She hummed as she made coffee.
Checked her phone.
Smiled at the screen.
That smile again.
Not for me.
Never for me anymore.
"Are you still upset?" she asked lightly, as if I were a child sulking over a toy.
I stared at her.
"You didn't come to my birthday."
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she gave a small, irritated sigh.
"Ethan… don't be unreasonable. Leo's birthday party was a big deal. The whole family was there. They were evaluating us."
"Us?" I repeated.
"You mean him."
Her eyes flickered—annoyed, sharp.
"Why do you always twist my words?"
Because the truth didn't need twisting.
It was already cutting me open.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice as if explaining basic math to a slow student.
"Ethan, listen. If Leo succeeds, you succeed. If you help him, the Clarks will value you more."
I let out a shaky laugh.
"So I'm supposed to sacrifice my life… my dignity… my birthday… to make Leo look good?"
Ava's expression hardened.
"Stop making it sound like that. I didn't want to embarrass your family by leaving early. They'd say you don't support your brother."
Brother.
That word again.
I wasn't sure which hurt more—
that she said it
or that she said it so easily.
Her voice softened suddenly, dangerously.
"You love me, right? Then trust me. Everything I'm doing… is for you."
For me?
Or for the version of me she wanted?
The version with wealth.
Status.
Power.
The version that wasn't really me.
I nodded numbly, because lying to myself hurt less than losing her.
But as she leaned in to kiss my cheek, I felt nothing.
Not warmth.
Not comfort.
Not love.
Only a cold, quiet fear—
that she was slipping through my fingers, and I couldn't stop it.