Chapter 3: Breaking the Promise

He never defended me in the game—never protected me like he does for other girls now.

He didn’t have to pretend with me.

After he started playing with other girls, I just stopped playing at all.

I smiled and shook my head. “Nah, I’ve got a report to finish. You go ahead.”

Didn’t look at him as I spoke. Just slipped into the study.

When I finally finished my work and went to the bedroom, he was already asleep.

I stood in the doorway for a while, hesitated, but still didn’t go in. Instead, I flopped onto the living room sofa, stared at the ceiling for ages, then let out a long sigh.

Streetlight stripes cut across the carpet, the fridge hummed, some car alarm blared in the distance. Everything felt far away, like I was watching my own life from somewhere else.

I didn’t even realize Brandon was standing in the doorway, watching me, until he spoke.

I had no idea how long he’d been there.

He didn’t bother turning on the light. In the half-dark, our faces were just shadows. After a minute, he said, “Are you unhappy?” Then, “You don’t like Aubrey?”

It was a question, but his voice was so calm, so sure—like he was letting me know exactly where his priorities lay.

He said, “If you don’t like her, you won’t see her again.”

I let out a sigh. Just so tired.

The problem was never Aubrey.

Because even without her, there’d always be someone else.

And besides, there’s always that bright, clear moon hanging up there.

That moon is my sister.

There’s no space for me in this crowded story. That’s why I need to let go.

I finally said, “Brandon, let’s break up.”

He laughed, all dismissive, like I was just being dramatic. “You still don’t get it? I thought you’d be used to this by now.”

Honestly, I should’ve been used to it ages ago.

Brandon’s wandering wasn’t anything new.

When we first started college, everyone knew I was his girlfriend, but he was such a catch that girls were always circling, and he never turned anyone down.

If he liked a girl’s vibe, he never turned her down.

I remember—this girl from his department, misreading his signals, thought she had a shot and came to show off in front of me. I didn’t even look up. Just smirked: “Just wait and see.”

Less than a week later, there were rumors about him and some dance department beauty.

Someone asked how I could stand it. I just shrugged.

Brandon and I went way back.

Before I even knew what a crush was, I was already trailing after him.

He’d walk me to class, carrying my backpack.

Once, during a thunderstorm, the babysitter locked me in so she could play cards. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe, and he broke the glass to climb in—hand bleeding, but he just stroked my head and told me not to be scared.

Later, I ran into some drunk creep on my way home. Brandon shielded me, took the hits, wouldn’t let go until someone finally came to help.

When I turned sixteen, I made a wish—silent, just for me: “I want to marry Brandon someday.”

Right before I blew out the candles, I looked up and caught him staring at my sister. His sharp features softened, even his mouth curved into a gentle smile.

Yeah, my sister—so amazing, beautiful, and kind. In my childhood memories with Brandon, I always tried to ignore her, or at least leave her out.

I lied to myself, pretending it was just me and Brandon all those years.

But that wasn’t true. My sister was the moon—so bright she made the rest of us look dim.

Everyone loved her. Brandon, most of all.

She was always in his story, never fading.

The day she brought her boyfriend home, I was probably the happiest one. They looked so perfect together. When they smiled at each other, the air felt thick, like the world was holding its breath. Sweet, sharp, almost dizzying.

But I felt this weird shame, because part of me was happy for a totally selfish reason.

I glanced at Brandon. He stood off to the side, looking so alone. His eyes darted from my sister’s glowing smile to her boyfriend, his face tight, like he was sizing up a rival.

But my sister always saw him as just a kid.

After she and her boyfriend left, I walked Brandon home.

The streetlights and moon were cold and bright, showing every bit of his sadness.

I didn’t say a word.

We walked for miles, slow. The moon stretched his shadow out long on the sidewalk. I stepped on it, sighing inside: When are you ever going to look back at me, Brandon?

Almost home, he finally looked at me, like he’d figured something out, and grinned.

I asked, “Brandon, are you giving up?”

He glanced up, all young and stubborn, a little surprised. “Of course not. Natalie’s not married, she’s just dating. I’ll wait for her to break up. Even if she gets married, what if she gets divorced later?”

“I can always wait. I’ll grow up. One day, she’ll look at me the way she looks at a man.”

I stared at his face, swallowing everything I wanted to say.

If that day ever came, I’d be happy for him.

If not, that was fine, too. Because I’d always be here.

It’s a messed up love triangle, isn’t it? He’ll never know someone else was waiting for him, too.

Later, I almost wished he’d just keep waiting for my sister forever. Even if there was no answer, at least we both had hope.