Part 3My Sister Loved My Boyfriend First

I clenched my jaw, fighting to keep my face completely blank. Delia only liked white roses—a detail I had shared with him years ago. I only liked baby’s breath, and in our five years together, he had never gotten it wrong. Not once.

It took him a second to realize what he was holding. Panic flickered in his eyes, and he frantically tried to laugh it off. "Ah, I was in such a rush this morning. I didn’t even look at what the florist grabbed. I'll get you a proper bouquet later, Meg, I promise."

His eyes instinctively flicked toward Delia. She didn't look back. She stepped forward, ignoring him completely, and took the handle of my suitcase.

"Come on," she said, her voice tight but forcedly warm. "Let's get you some real food."

Normally, the three of us would have gone straight to our favorite diner to celebrate my return. But those anonymous confessions kept screaming in my head.

I forced the muscles in my face into the shape of a smile. "Actually, you guys go ahead. I have to head straight to the office."

Ted took a step toward me. "I can drive you."

"No!" The word shot out of my mouth before I could stop it. The sheer sharpness of my voice hung in the air. Both Ted and Delia frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing their faces.

I quickly reached down and took the suitcase back from Delia's hand, forcing my voice to drop to a calmer register. "I mean... my manager is expecting a debrief immediately. I'll be late getting home."

Their brows smoothed over. Delia offered a soft smile. "Okay. I'll make your favorite dinner tonight."

Ted smiled too, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Call me when you're done, Meg. I'll come pick you up."

I nodded blindly.

I turned and practically ran out of the terminal, hailing a cab. As the taxi sped away, the familiar streets of the city I had lived in for twenty-five years blurred past the window. Every corner, every storefront held a ghost of the two of them.

There was the ramen place on 4th Street, where Delia would always scold me for ordering spicy broth with my sensitive stomach, forcing me to eat plain rice instead. There was the boba shop on Lincoln Avenue, where Ted had once queued in the freezing rain for three hours just to get me a limited-edition cup. And the AMC theater downtown. The three of us used to love booking the late-night screenings, walking back to our apartments under the streetlights, whispering so we wouldn't wake the neighborhood.

We would dissect the films on those walks. Delia would inevitably take issue with Ted's opinions, teasingly tearing his theories to shreds until he raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing, "Okay, okay, you win!" Then he’d lean down and whisper in my ear, "Your sister is terrifying."

We had been so happy.

By the time I pulled myself out of the memories, tears were streaming down my face. The driver caught my eye in the rearview mirror. "Hey, kid. Whatever it is, you'll get through it. You've got to keep moving forward."

I offered a sheepish smile and wiped my cheeks. "Thanks."

When we arrived at my office building, I paid the fare and got out. I stood on the pavement, looking up at the glass facade, and took a deep, steadying breath. My six-month trip had been a temporary assignment. Before I left, my division head had pulled me aside to offer me a spot on a highly confidential overseas expansion project.

I had turned it down. I had turned it down because Ted had told me he wanted to get married. He’d promised that the day I got back, we would start house-hunting.

Well. There would be no house-hunting now. But that overseas position? I wanted it.

I walked into the office. My manager, Mr. Davies, was just coming out of a conference room with a stack of folders. He blinked in surprise. "Megan? I didn't expect you back until tomorrow."

"I caught an earlier flight," I said, forcing a professional smile. "Mr. Davies, about the overseas placement we discussed... is the spot still open? I want to apply."

His eyes lit up. "Are you serious? I spent weeks trying to convince you before you left. What changed your mind?"

Had I changed my mind? The truth was, part of me still couldn't process the betrayal. But some things don't require understanding. They just require acceptance.

"I'm ready," I said, nodding.

Mr. Davies' expression grew serious. "Megan, you know the terms of this project. It's a highly secure, intensive three-year contract. You won't be permitted to travel back home, and contact with family must be kept to an absolute minimum due to the NDA. Can you handle that?"

"Yes," I said, my voice steady. "I can leave tomorrow morning."