Part 2His Marriage Was a Backdoor to My Sister

My birthday was just two days after the hospital visit.

I saw the tickets tucked into Callum’s jacket pocket: two passes to the VIP viewing deck for the biggest Summer Firework Spectacular in the neighboring city.

“Callum, I don’t want to go there for my birthday,” I said quietly.

His eyes froze for a split second. He smoothly withdrew the tickets, deliberated, and then said, “Aubrey, these aren’t for you.”

“Genevieve said she wanted a change of scenery to clear her head. I can’t let her go alone.”

Suddenly, I was eighteen again, back in the darkness of a night when the whole family was celebrating Genevieve’s latest trophy, and no one remembered my birthday.

Every bone in my body felt a faint ache. I managed to make my voice sound light. “What about me, then? It’s my birthday that night.”

Callum pinched the bridge of his nose. “Genevieve is still very fragile right now. If we throw a big party for you, it might upset her.”

He looked at me with an earnest plea. “Aubrey, birthdays can be celebrated later. Just this once. We grew up together; we should look out for each other.”

“Besides, you don’t like big crowds anyway. I promise I’ll come home as early as I can. Be mature about this.”

On my birthday, I saw the photos on Genevieve’s social media feed. The bright, dazzling fireworks framed her silhouette and Callum’s. She was making a wish for her baby’s health and for news of Rhys. Callum's profile, steady and knight-like, suddenly brought back a flood of forgotten details from my nineteenth birthday.

That year, the neighboring city held its first firework show, and we all went. Rhys and Genevieve vanished into the crowd almost immediately. The chaotic human tide nearly caused a stampede. I couldn't breathe, my heart hammering in my ears. Just as I stumbled, Callum fought his way through the crush and shielded me.

When he saw only me, he looked startled. He craned his neck, looking around desperately. “Where’s Genevieve?”

When they finally rejoined us, Genevieve’s face was flushed, her hand tightly laced with Rhys’s. She smiled brightly. “Callum, were you looking for me? I just saw your text that you needed to talk.”

Callum’s gaze dropped to their interlocked hands, then back to Genevieve’s radiant smile.

Rhys scoffed, a flicker of hostility in his eyes. “What, you planning on declaring your feelings to Genevieve tonight too?”

Callum’s arm suddenly wrapped around my shoulder, and he laughed, the sound hollow.

“I was actually looking for you two to secretly brainstorm what we should do for Aubrey’s birthday.”

Genevieve, in the first flush of love, saw my closeness with Callum through a lens of romance. “Wow, Callum, you’re so good to my sister.” She emphasized the word good.

Amidst the explosions of light, Callum handed me a small box he’d been clutching.

“Happy birthday, Aubrey.”

I held the small box carefully, overwhelmed, my ears burning red. I was so dense. It took me all these years to realize the truth.

I finally understood why, when he couldn't find them in the crowd that night, Callum had frantically called Genevieve's name.

I understood the controlled grief and loss in his eyes when he looked at Genevieve and Rhys.

And why the gift he gave me that night was a necklace shaped like a cello.

I understood the way his eyes had darted away when I’d said excitedly, “Thank you for remembering my birthday.”

Callum didn’t come home before the new day arrived.

I blew out the candles on my small cake alone.

I used to wish that my parents would care more, that Callum would love me forever, and that Rhys and Genevieve would stop hating me.

A faint, muffled sob echoed in the dark apartment.

Now, I just wanted to leave them all behind.

The candles were out. My twenty-eight years of foolish life were over.