Affection Smells Sweet. You? Nasty.

I saw two people trapped in a painful emotional struggle. The scent pouring off them was so bitter it seemed to spill out into the hallway.

My sister, Jasmine Ford, had her face in her hands, sobbing, her shoulders shaking.

"Bruce, let's leave it here. We can't keep doing this to ourselves." She looked up at him, grief written all over her face.

"I'm getting married. Next week, you and Rosie are getting married too. Rosie and I have only had each other since our parents died. Don't hurt her. I'm begging you."

I leaned against the wall.

My heart throbbed with a thousand tiny pinpricks, like needles under the skin.

The sheer absurdity of it made me laugh, then cry, then laugh again, until I didn't even know what my own face was doing anymore.

My sister. Bruce Dawson.

I had never once put those two people together in my mind. Even though, over the years, the distance between them had always felt strange, like they were strangers to each other, and I was the only bridge connecting them.

Every holiday, he'd show up at our house with a gift and call her out of politeness. She'd nod back distantly and say nothing more than, "Have a seat."

Every time Bruce left, my sister would stroke my hair, as if she were holding something down inside herself.

"Our Rosie has to be happy. No matter what."

Back then, I never understood the sadness in her eyes when she said it.

Now, I did.

Out in the stairwell, Bruce was shaking his head. He reached for my sister's hand, his own fingers trembling. "Don't do this. Jasmine, please don't do this to me."

My sister closed her eyes and wrenched her hand free.

"I told you, it's over! Bruce, let's just accept that we were never meant to be."

Bruce's fists slammed into the wall. Those hands, the same ones that held a scalpel every day, were suddenly streaked with blood, though his eyes were redder than the blood itself.

"I don't believe that we were never meant to be! Jasmine, I'll take you away. Let's leave this place, just the two of us!"

She pulled free, her eyes hard with resolve.

"I won't hurt Rosie. If you try anything, I'll never speak to you again as long as I live."

His whole body went rigid, his spine drawn as tight as a bowstring pulled to its limit. Then he let out a bitter laugh, and the tension drained out of him all at once. He bowed his head.

"Fine..." His shoulders dropped. "You win, Jasmine. You win.

"I'll be good to Rosie. For the rest of my life."

I closed my eyes and laughed at myself, bitterly. It was nothing but self-mockery.

I left in a daze, my footsteps unsteady, all the color drained from my face.

A while later, Bruce came back and sat down beside me.

"What's wrong?" He brushed a thumb under my reddened eyes, his voice full of concern. "Why have you been crying?"

I looked up and pressed my fingers into my palms.

He'd gone back to looking gentle, as if nothing that just happened had been real, as if I'd imagined all of it.

I pulled away from him without meaning to. "It's nothing."

He didn't ask any more questions, because the lights in the banquet hall had already dimmed, and his attention had shifted to the doors that were about to open.

"And now, please welcome the bride!"

As soon as the emcee finished speaking, my sister came walking down the aisle in her wedding gown.

She looked at me first. Her eyes only swept over Bruce for an instant, but there was loneliness in that glance.

As for Bruce, his hands were clenched tightly as he suppressed his emotions.

I watched it all, and when I breathed in, a grief I couldn't hold back rose up in my chest.

Because out of the three of us standing there, not one of us smelled sweet.

Up on the stage, my sister exchanged vows of forever with the man beside her, and then it was time for the family to say a few words. The emcee held out the microphone.

"Let's have the bride's only sister come up and give her blessing!"

I was just about to take it.

Bruce, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly stood up beside me and snatched the microphone away.