My hand for her dream.

2

“You didn’t pick up my calls.”

Adrian’s voice came from the doorway before I even turned, and I felt it before I saw him, that familiar presence that used to bring comfort, now pressing against my skin in a way that made me want to step away.

I kept my eyes on the table for a moment before looking up.

“I was resting.”

He walked in slowly, his gaze sweeping over me, stopping briefly on the brace around my hand, and for a moment, his expression softened like it always did when he wanted to play the part.

“You should have told me,” he said quietly, stepping closer, “I heard about your hand.”

I nodded once.

“I know.”

He reached for me, his fingers brushing my arm, light and familiar, but my body reacted before I could stop it, my shoulders tightening slightly, my breath catching as something deep inside me resisted the contact.

It felt wrong now.

Not painful, not harsh, just wrong.

I pulled my arm back gently, like it meant nothing, like I had simply adjusted my position, but I saw the brief flicker of confusion in his eyes.

“You’re tense,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

A short silence settled between us, and then he exhaled, like he was letting it go.

“We’re going to my parents’ place tonight,” he said, his tone shifting back to normal, like nothing had happened, “they want to see you.”

I looked at him.

His parents.

The house I grew up visiting because my mother worked there, the place where I learned early how to sit quietly, how to take less space, how to pretend I belonged when I didn’t.

“They insisted,” Adrian added, watching me carefully, “you know how they are.”

Yes.

I knew exactly how they were.

I should have refused, I should have said no, but I didn’t, because I needed to see it clearly, not just hear it through a half-open door, not just feel it as something breaking inside me.

I needed to sit in front of them and understand exactly what I had been to all of them.

“Alright,” I said.

He nodded, satisfied.

“Good.”

—

The house looked the same.

Large, quiet, perfect in a way that never included me.

The moment we stepped inside, his mother looked at me, her eyes moving slowly from my face to the brace on my hand, then back again, and her lips curved slightly in something that was not quite a smile.

“So you are here.”

I gave a small nod.

“Good evening.”

She did not reply, she simply turned to Adrian.

“You’re late.”

“Traffic,” he said.

Her gaze returned to me.

“And you,” she added, her tone light but cutting underneath, “I heard about your hand.”

My fingers twitched slightly inside the brace.

“I’m recovering.”

She hummed softly, like the answer did not matter.

“I suppose that means the mentorship is no longer an issue,” she said, and her eyes held mine just long enough for the meaning to settle, just long enough for me to understand that she had always seen it as something that should never have been mine.

No one said anything.

Not Adrian.

Not his father.

The silence felt deliberate.

I nodded once.

“Yes.”

“Good,” she replied, her lips curving faintly, “it would have been rather embarrassing if you had taken a position that requires steady hands.”

Then I saw her.

Selene.

She was already seated, relaxed, comfortable, like she had always belonged there, her laughter soft as she leaned toward Adrian’s father, her hand resting lightly on the arm of his chair like she had every right to be there.

She looked up when we entered, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before her lips curved into a small, knowing smile, then she looked away like I was nothing more than a passing detail.

Dinner began, or what looked like it.

I sat there while plates were served, the smell of the food rising around me, rich and heavy, and I recognized it immediately.

Seafood.

My stomach tightened slightly.

I had told Adrian about my allergy years ago, more than once, enough times that it should have been something he remembered without thinking.

I glanced at him.

He did not look at me. He was watching Selene.

“You should try this,” he said to her, his tone softer, warmer than anything he had said to me since he walked in, as he reached over to place food on her plate, his attention entirely on her, “you’ll like it.”

Selene smiled.

“You always remember what I like.”

“Of course,” he replied easily.

I lowered my gaze to my own plate.

Untouched,Useless.

There was nothing there I could eat, and no one noticed.

Not his mother.

Not his father.

Not even Adrian.

The conversation continued around me, smooth and effortless, as if I was not even part of it.

Then his mother spoke again.

“You must be struggling now,” she said lightly, her eyes on me, “without your work, I imagine your days are quite empty.”

I held her gaze.

“I’m managing.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“Well, at least you have Adrian,” she continued, her voice soft but precise, “marrying into this family will give you stability, something you would not have been able to secure on your own.”

My fingers curled slightly against my lap.

His father added calmly, “you should focus on being a good wife now, that would suit you better than chasing things beyond your reach.”

Beyond my reach.

The words settled quietly.

Across the table, Selene laughed softly at something Adrian said, leaning closer to him, her shoulder brushing his arm, and he did not move away.

Instead, he adjusted slightly toward her.

Like it was natural.

His hand brushed mine under the table then, light and absent, like an afterthought.

My body reacted instantly, my breath catching as my skin seemed to pull away from the contact, and I slowly moved my hand back, resting it on my lap instead.

He noticed.

I saw the slight shift in his expression. But he said nothing.

My phone vibrated softly against my thigh.

I glanced down and I saw a message. It was from Mitchell.

“Are you comfortable with the wedding being in two weeks?”

Two weeks. Fast and Clean.

My fingers hovered for a second before I typed back.

“Yes.”

I locked the phone and placed it back down.

Across from me, Selene tilted her head slightly toward Adrian, her voice low.

“Can you come with me for a moment?”

He did not hesitate.

“Of course.”

They both stood, excusing themselves casually, like it was normal, like there was nothing to question, like I was not sitting right there watching them leave together.

I watched them go.

My chest felt heavy, my breath uneven, and I pushed my chair back slowly.

“I need some air,” I said quietly. No one bothered to stop me.

I walked out.

The night air hit my skin immediately, cool and sharp, and I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself, trying to quiet the noise in my head.

Then I heard it, a soft sound. I turned slightly. And I saw them.

Adrian had her pressed against the wall, his hand gripping her waist, pulling her close as his lips moved against hers, slow and intimate, like he had all the time in the world.

Selene’s fingers were tangled in his shirt, her body pressed against his like she belonged there, like she always had.

I stopped breathing.

My fingers curled at my side, weak but trembling, and I stood there, unable to move, unable to look away.

He kissed her like I had never been kissed. Like she was a treasure to protect.

And at that moment, I understood it fully.

I had never been the one he chose.