Chapter 4: The Moon and the Shadows

Even if it was all fake.

But then my sister died.

I’ll never forget the day she passed.

No more tubes, no more beeping machines. Chemo left her so pale and thin. She lay in bed, her boyfriend holding her hand, both of them silent.

I sobbed into the sheets, tears soaking everything. My sister stroked my head—her hand cold and weak, her voice still soft. She turned to Brandon and whispered, “Brandon, I’m trusting Lila to you. Please take care of her, okay?”

After a long pause, I heard Brandon choke out, “Okay.”

Back then, I was hopelessly in love with him. Sometimes, looking at my dazzling sister, I’d have this ugly, dark thought: what if I didn’t have a sister?

But when she was gone, all I felt was fear and emptiness. I would’ve traded anything to get her back.

But she was gone.

After the funeral, I was lost for a long time.

I took a year off. When I finally came back, Brandon was different.

New school. When I waited for him outside class, a girl passed and asked, “Do you like Brandon?”

She looked at me, totally serious: “You just transferred, so you probably don’t know. Brandon’s all show, no substance. He’s broken a lot of hearts. Don’t be dumb.”

I blinked, not really getting it.

But I learned soon enough.

Because every so often, a new girl would come looking for him.

Every time, they’d be crying, grabbing his sleeve, begging him not to dump them.

And Brandon would just look down, cold, then give that careless smile: “Didn’t you know what I was like before you got with me?”

Later, I grabbed his sleeve, tears stuck in my throat, and tried to talk sense into him: “Brandon, don’t do this to yourself. If Natalie could see you, she’d be heartbroken.”

His eyes went flat and empty. That was the first time I saw him really lose it—eyes red, face pale. He said, “She wouldn’t. She was the one who left us first.”

I hugged him, sobbing.

I told him he still had me. We’d get through it. Natalie was gone, but I’d always stay.

We clung to each other, just trying to fill the hole my sister left.

At first, I really tried.

I was the golden girl—popular, voted homecoming queen right away. I did music, dance, student council, killed it in class. I tried to be nice to everyone.

I tried to live like my sister did.

I was good at everything, except one thing.

I liked Brandon.

Wherever he went, I followed. At first, people tried to talk me out of it.

He wasn’t a jerk.

I’d just smile and say, “He’s not as bad as people think.”

After a while, people stopped trying. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving.

I just thought, they never saw the Brandon I knew—the boy who once said he’d wait forever for a girl.

Even if that girl wasn’t me.

So, even when Brandon was a total mess, I stayed, because I knew he hadn’t always been this way.

Later, maybe because he was good to me—bringing umbrellas when it rained, dropping off breakfast, lunch, dinner, birthday flowers. If I stared at something in a store, it’d be on my desk the next day.

Eventually, everyone just assumed I was his girlfriend.

Once, after a girl had a meltdown, she looked at me, all jealous, and said, “Brandon treats you so well.”

I just smiled, but it was bitter. No one knew his kindness was just going through the motions—he gave me everything but never really cared how I felt.

He was just checking off a box for my sister.

We made it official on my eighteenth birthday.

After blowing out the candles, I made a wish in the dark: “Brandon, let’s be together.”

Of course, he didn’t say no.

Honestly, I just wanted to save him. Everyone called him a heartbreaker.

He wasn’t.

When I blew out the candles, I thought of my sister. In my heart, I promised: Natalie, don’t worry. Brandon and I will look out for each other.

I started handling the endless parade of girls as his girlfriend, but it didn’t help.

And eventually, I started seeing pieces of my sister in all of them.

Later, I just got tired. I thought, fine—even if I can’t save him, I’ll stay with him.