She Loves Him, But He's Her Brother

Melanie stared at the photo on the floor, tears slipping down her face again.

She bent down to pick it up, not even noticing when tiny shards of glass pierced through her fingers.

In the picture, she was smiling brightly, leaning slightly toward Edwin. But he? He looked so distant like he didn't even want to be there.

It was nothing like the photo of him and Maurice on that keychain.

That's when she finally got it: love and indifference—they'd always been clear. She was just too stupid to see it.

This villa had been her home for eight years. Every corner of it was filled with her things. But so much of it—too much—had been gifts from Edwin.

She decided she didn't need to keep any of it.

Piece by piece, she packed everything he'd given her into boxes. It took a few trips to carry it all down to the storage room.

When she was done, all she had left was one suitcase.

As she stepped out of the house, she ran right into Edwin.

He glanced at the suitcase she was pulling, his brows furrowing slightly, but he didn't say a word.

Her heart ached as he brushed past her without a word. It felt like swallowing a thousand needles, but she still forced herself to speak.

"Ed, my department's really busy this week. I'm going to stay at the company for a few days."

She'd taken on some freelance projects recently. Once she finished them, she'd finally have enough money to pay him back. Between that and her savings from college, she could finally clear her debt to him.

Then she could leave for good.

He paused for a second, but his tone stayed cold. "Do what you want."

And just like that, he walked back inside. No other words. No attempt to stop her.

Her eyes stung as she dragged her suitcase out the door.

She couldn't help but think back to when he first brought her here. He'd told her this was her home. He'd told her that he'd always be there for her.

When her parents abandoned her, Edwin was the one who pieced her heart back together.

No matter how busy he was, he'd come home every night to eat with her. On weekends, he'd take her hiking or camping. He even introduced her to his friends.

"This is my baby," he'd say with a grin. "She's going to be a big designer one day!"

Eight years of warmth and promises… gone, just like that.

She pulled her suitcase to the gate and was about to call for a ride when a delivery guy in a Southern Roots Kitchen uniform walked up to her, holding a fancy food container.

It was from her favorite restaurant.

"Hi, are you Miss Henley? This is your order," he said.

She blinked, confused. "I didn't order anything."

The delivery guy showed her the receipt. "The number ends in 3981. Isn't that yours? The address matches here, too."

That number—it was Edwin's.

The delivery guy looked at her, a bit impatient. "I tried calling the number earlier, but no one answered. Are you Miss Henley?"

After a moment, she nodded quietly and signed for the food. She took the container and set her suitcase aside.

She figured she'd give it to the maid. It wasn't hers, anyway. A glance at the receipt told her everything—these were all dishes Maurice liked.

As she walked back to the door, she saw Edwin heading her way, phone in hand, talking to someone.

When he spotted her, his steps faltered for a second before he said into the phone, "Got it. I'll be there soon.

When he hung up, he looked at her with the same calm, distant expression as always. "Did you book the ride?"

Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to nod.