The Wishes We Keep

"Big sis, I'll head out to buy you some clothes first. Take a hot shower in the meantime," Dennis said.

I nodded silently, grateful for his consideration. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly as he left the room. The moment the door clicked shut, the weight of the day settled over me. The lingering sting on my cheek reminded me of Cayden's slap, but it wasn't the worst pain I'd endured.

Dennis was quick, returning within an hour with not only new clothes but also a tube of ointment. "Your face is swollen," he said, his brow furrowed as he handed me the bag. "This should help."

I took the ointment from him, offering a small smile of thanks before retreating to the bathroom.

The shower was scalding, steam billowing around me and washing away the lake water and the chill that had seeped into my bones. As I wrapped myself in a towel and glanced at the fogged-up mirror, my reflection stared back, battered but defiant.

My gaze fell to the scattered scars on my body, each one a ghost of a past injury. They mapped out the years I had spent shielding Cayden from harm, infiltrating dangerous places and putting myself in the line of fire for him.

Almost every scar bore his name in some way, except one. My fingers instinctively traced the three-centimeter line along my jaw, the only wound that predated him. A faint ache accompanied the memory, but it was dulled by the sheer weight of all the others.

I must have lost track of time because a knock came at the door, breaking through my reverie.

"Aubrey?" Dennis called, his voice tinged with concern. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"I'm fine," I replied quickly, opening the door.

The steam followed me out in a curling haze, tinting my skin a flushed pink. Dennis's eyes widened briefly before he turned his head, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. He busied himself by picking up the ointment and holding it out to me.

"Here. You should apply this before it gets worse."

"Thanks, but I can do it myself," I said, taking the tube from him.

I dabbed the ointment onto my cheek with a cotton swab, hissing softly as the sting flared.

Just then, my phone buzzed on the counter. Cayden.

I hesitated before answering, sliding my finger across the screen.

"Where are you? I don't see you anywhere," he said, his voice slightly breathless, as though he'd been running. Beneath the urgency, there was a faint edge of reproach.

"Dennis brought me to a hotel," I replied evenly.

There was a pause. I imagined Cayden standing near the lake where Catherine had fallen in, his brows furrowing as they always did when something displeased him.

"Dennis? What are you doing at a hotel with Dennis?" His tone sharpened, irritation laced with something else.

The phone was on speaker. Dennis, now sitting cross-legged by the edge of the bed, perked up like a child overhearing gossip.

"Hiss—" I let out a soft gasp as the ointment stung again.

"What happened? Are you hurt? Which hotel are you at? Send me the address," Cayden demanded, his voice turning commanding.

"It's fine," I replied curtly, keeping my tone neutral. "Dennis will take me back later."

I hung up before he could respond. My reflection in the mirror stared back, pale and blotchy. The swelling on my cheek was pronounced, a vivid reminder of how little I mattered to Cayden when his temper flared.

The thought made me chuckle bitterly. When will I finally give up on him? The smallest hint of kindness and I softened again.

When I turned, I caught Dennis crouched by the bathroom door, his curly hair bobbing as he leaned closer, clearly eavesdropping.

"Dennis," I said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Instead of looking sheepish, he grinned unabashedly. "Big sis, let's grab dinner together. How about Greenmount Street?"

The mention of Greenmount Street made my eyes light up. Chinatown was there and I hadn't had braised pork rice from the small shop Cayden and I used to frequent in years.

"Sure," I said, surprising even myself with how quickly I agreed.

***

Dennis had brought back a dress for me—a trendy piece with a fitted bodice and a flowy skirt, the kind I rarely wore. The tag proudly declared it as part of this year's "pure seduction" collection, though wearing it made me feel exposed rather than alluring.

The scars on my arms and calves were visible against the pale fabric, their jagged lines stark under the room's fluorescent light. I'd grown used to them over the years, but I couldn't help wondering what others thought when they saw them. Would they see strength? Or would they only see the ugliness of a broken past?

I said nothing as I slipped on the dress. Dennis's eyes lingered for a moment, his expression unreadable, but he didn't comment.

We left on his sportbike, the wind cool against my face as we weaved through the streets. Sitting on the back, I lightly patted his shoulder to signal him to stop.

Dennis pulled over smoothly, removing his helmet as he turned to look at me. "What's wrong? I wasn't going too fast, was I?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"No," I said, pointing to a mall across the street. "I just... I want to change out of this dress. It doesn't suit me."

Dennis followed my gaze to the mall, then back to me. "You look fine, big sis," he said softly, his tone genuine.

I shook my head, smiling faintly. "Thanks, but I don't feel like myself in it."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Let's find you something else."