One Night On My Stepbrother's Bed

MIRELLE

The sun is shining bright today on campus, and everybody is shouting and laughing out loud. Red and gold graduation hats are flying high up into the blue sky. Music is playing from the big speakers near the main gate, and people are taking pictures together with big smiles on their faces. It is a happy day for all the students who just finished university.

Except for me.

I am sitting alone on a wooden bench under a tall green tree far away from the noisy crowd. My fingers are shaking a little bit as I zip up my heavy black suitcase. Inside the suitcase are all my clothes, my old books, and the few things I managed to keep. My graduation cap is resting on top of the bench next to me, but I do not want to wear it. It

Across the wide green lawn, a loud wave of noise suddenly sweeps through the crowd. The cheering starts near the entrance and spreads fast like fire through dry grass. Girls are giggling and whispering behind their hands, and boys are turning their heads to look.

I do not even have to look up to know who just arrived. My heart gives a sharp, painful squeeze inside my chest, right where it always hurts when he is near.

Callan Mercer, my step brother.

He walks into the graduation ground like he owns the whole world. He is wearing a sharp dark suit that fits his tall body perfectly, and his dark hair is slightly messy in a way that makes all the girls stare at him with bright, starry eyes. He does not wear a graduation gown because he finished his degree last year, but everyone still treats him like he is the main star of today.

People part ways for him naturally, making a clear path wherever he walks.

"Look, it is Callan," a girl whispers loudly near the bushes close to my bench. Her voice is full of dreamy excitement. "Oh my god, he looks so handsome today. Do you think he is looking at me?"

"No way, he never looks at anyone," her friend whispers back, giggling. "I heard he is just here because his stepfamily or someone is graduating... wait, isn't that his stepsister over there? That quiet, boring girl sitting by the tree?"

The words hit me like cold water thrown right on my face. I keep my head down, staring hard at my worn-out shoes, wishing the grass beneath me would just open up and swallow me whole.

"Yeah, Mirelle Veyne," the first girl says, her voice dropping into a tone of sharp envy. "Can you even believe it? She lives in the same house as him. She gets to see him every single day. Some people are just born so lucky, even when they do not deserve it at all."

"I know, right?" the second girl agrees bitterly. "She is so quiet and plain. She does not even talk to anyone. Why would someone like Callan have her as a step-sister? It is so unfair."

I bite my lower lip hard. My hands squeeze the handle of my suitcase. They do not know. They do not know how cold that big, fancy mansion feels. They do not know how invisible I am to everyone else, how my mother walks past me without seeing my tears, or how the servants look at me like I am a piece of dust on a clean floor.

I am not lucky. I am just a ghost living in a rich man's house.

"Mirelle."

My breath catches in my throat. The sound of his voice sends a warm, confusing shiver all the way down my spine. I freeze completely, not daring to lift my eyes right away.

A pair of polished black leather shoes stops right in front of my worn-out sneakers.

Slowly, I raise my chin. Standing right there, blocking the bright afternoon sun, is Callan. His dark eyes are looking down at me with a strange kind of intensity that always makes my stomach do nervous flips. 

"Why are you sitting all the way out here by yourself?" Callan asks, his voice low and rich, carrying a hint of irritation that is only ever directed at me—or rather, at the world whenever it treats me wrong. "Everyone is over by the main stage celebrating. I had to look everywhere for you."

I swallow hard, trying to find my voice somewhere deep inside my dry throat. "I... I was just packing up my things, Callan," I murmur softly, keeping my eyes glued to the expensive buttons of his shirt. "I did not want to bother anyone."

Callan lets out a heavy sigh. "You are never a bother, Mirelle. How many times do I have to tell you that?" He reaches out and gently taps the top of my suitcase with his knuckles. "And what is this bag doing here? You are supposed to come home with me after this. We have a whole party waiting for you."

My heart skips a loud, painful beat. A party. For me.

"A party?" I repeat, my voice trembling before I can stop it. I look up at him, my eyes wide and full of sudden panic. "Callan, you... your family did not have to do that. I told Mom I just wanted a quiet day. I do not fit in at those big parties. You know how your relatives look at me."

Callan’s face hardens instantly. The relaxed playboy look he always wears for the rest of the world completely disappears whenever someone treats me poorly. His jaw tightens, and his dark eyes flash with a sharp, dangerous anger.

"Nobody is going to look at you the wrong way today," Callan says firmly, stepping a little closer so that his shadow completely covers me. "It is your graduation day, Mirelle. You earned this degree, and you deserve to be celebrated, whether you like the attention or not. My father and your mother already paid people who set everything up at the estate."

"My mother did it because she had to, not because she wanted to," I whisper bitterly, the truth slipping out of my mouth before I can catch it. "Just like she married your father to secure her place in your world. I am just... an extra piece of luggage she has to drag along, Callan."

Callan’s expression softens instantly at my words, and the anger in his eyes melts into something warm and devastatingly tender. He crouches down slightly so that his face is level with mine, ignoring all the students walking past us and staring at us with wide eyes.

"Stop talking like that," Callan says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that makes my chest ache with a hopeless, burning love. He reaches out, his warm fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from my cheek. His touch is so soft, so careful, that a tear immediately threatens to spill over my eyelashes. "You are not luggage, Mirelle. To me, you are the only real thing in that entire house."

I stare into his dark eyes, drowning in the warmth I know I have no right to keep. I love him so much it hurts inside my bones, but he is my stepbrother, the dazzling heir to the Mercer fortune, and a boy who has broken a thousand hearts without even trying. He looks at me like I am precious, but I know deep down inside my insecure heart that it is only because he feels sorry for the quiet, broken girl he has always had to protect.

"Come on," Callan says softly, offering me his hand with a small, reassuring smile that makes my breath hitch. "Get up. Let's go home. I bought you a graduation gift, and I want you to open it before the party starts."

With a trembling hand, I slowly place my fingers into his.

"Okay," I whisper, my voice barely louder than the rustling leaves above us. "Let's go.”