CH 10: We Were Kids

I didn't sleep after he left.

The fallen painting stayed on the floor all night. I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the messy lines I once hated, replaying every word Benedict had said. Tortoise. Letters. Always known where I was.

By morning the weight in my chest had settled into something colder.

My phone rang while I was still in yesterday's clothes. Susan's name lit up the screen. I almost ignored it. I did until after the third ring.

I answered. After all she was my best friend for years.

"Kat... please just listen." Her voice was careful, soft in the way people get when they know they're wrong. "It wasn't planned. John said you two were already over in every way that mattered. He said you never really-"

"Stop."

"I'm trying to explain-Stop being mad at me please I am sad and depr-"

"I don't need your explanation." My voice came out flat. "You can keep him. You two deserve each other and by the way, I am married already."

I ended the call before she could say another word.

Silence rushed back in.

I opened Instagram without thinking. The first post that loaded was Mara's. She was smiling, head tilted, sunlight on her face. The caption was short and bright: •New season. New beginnings.• The comments were full of hearts and congratulations. Someone had tagged the Alexandrescu family account.

I locked the phone and set it face-down.

The house felt too large and too empty at the same time. I walked to the sitting area by the window, pulled out an old sketchbook from my luggage, and stared at the blank page for a long time. My fingers itched for a pencil the way they used to in New York when everything felt impossible.

I had things I need to do like arranging my room to my style, get a good meal, and sleep but I need to clear my head.

Drawing was the only therapy I could think of. My only charity. Something that belonged only to me.

I didn't have a full plan yet, but the idea was already taking shape: small exhibitions, art auctions, proceeds going to women who needed a way out. Or just for my selfish self I don't care.

I needed air. Or maybe I just needed to stop sitting still.

I found Sam in the living room, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. He didn't look up when I entered.

"I want to start something," I said.

He raised an eyebrow, still scrolling.

"Drawing. Art. Combined with charity work. Auctions or gala. It could be good for our families name too-"

Sam laughed. Actual, open laughter.

"You're serious?" He finally looked at me. "You want to play artist and play savior at the same time? Cute."

Heat crawled up my neck. I opened my mouth to answer when the front door opened.

Benedict walked in.

He was still in gym clothes, dark shirt clinging to his chest, towel draped around his neck, skin faintly glistening. He stopped when he saw us. His eyes met mine for half a second too long before he looked away.

Sam noticed.

"Should I throw my brother out, wife?" he asked, voice light and mean. "You keep looking at him like he owes you something."

I frowned as I glared from one brother to the other.

"I am in my husband's house. Your brother or not, he should be somewhere else, don't he?" I added as I glared at Ben.

He just smiled. Benedict didn't react to the dig. He crossed the room and stopped in front of me and I could have swore I felt the joy that radiated form him.

"Sister-in-law," he said, perfectly polite as he waited for a couple of secons as of waiting for my answer.

Then, He leaned in for the expected greeting. One arm briefly around my shoulders, lips brushing my cheek. The whole thing lasted less than two seconds.

But as he pulled back, his fingers slid slowly down the middle of my spine. Deliberate. A private stroke no one else could see but I felt it.

My body betrayed me instantly. A sharp shiver ran through me before I could stop it.

He stepped away like nothing had happened.

Sam watched the whole exchange with mild amusement.

"My Parents already planned the honeymoon," he said casually. "Its tradition heh. So it's a secret place, no press or media. The usual family expectations. I'll be busy with Ben on the company side, so I figure you'll be fine sleeping through most of it. You never seemed the type to care about the romance part anyway."

Something inside me snapped.

"Why did you marry me if you hate me this much? I thought you wanted my sister, why me?" I choked back tears.

Sam set his coffee down and looked at me properly for the first time that morning.

"Because it's good for the family. And it guarantees I'm the heir plus you being an heir." He tilted his head, almost smiling. "You slapped me once and said you'd rather kiss a frog than marry me. Remember? And I still got you. Funny how that works."

The second slap landed harder than the first. I didn't even know I would do that until the sound cracked through the quiet room and my palm stung from colliding with his smug face.

"We were kids," I said, voice shaking, "and you forced yourself on me."

Sam touched his cheek, unimpressed.

"You weren't that special then either." He glanced at Benedict, then back at me. "Ben and I have business to talk. Keep glaring at us like that and I'll ship you somewhere quiet. After all... you're my wife."

He turned away like the conversation was already over.

I stood there with my palm still stinging, heart hammering, and felt Benedict's eyes on me again.

I didn't look back.

I walked out of the room before either of them could say another word.